Star Trek: What Dreams May Come
by Gilbert H. Karr
Summary: This is a revised version of a story previously published by me, Clandestine Orders. The Enterprise is taken over by a visiting Commodore with top secret orders and a hidden agenda. Rated K for mild language. Please read and review. I don't write slash. Thank you.
1. Chapter 1

**A/U: For those of you who read Clandestine Orders in the past, it has now undergone some revisions, to improve pacing on some parts of the story, so I am reposting from the beginning, under the new title, What Dreams May Come. Thanks to all who read, followed, and reviewed, and my apologies that the original story was never finished. I don't like leaving things unfinished, but found myself with nowhere to go, which is one of the things that prompted the revisions you will see in this new version of the story. Happy reading, and I hope you enjoy. **

**I do not own Star Trek or any of the characters or world within, save those that are my original creations. No redshirts were harmed in the writing of this story. Please read and review. I don't write slash. Thank you. **

Chapter 1

"If we shadows have offended,  
Think but this, and all is mended,  
That you have but slumber'd here  
While these visions did appear.  
And this weak and idle theme,  
No more yielding, but a dream,  
Gentles, do not reprehend;  
If you pardon, we will mend.  
And, as I am an honest Puck,  
If we have unearnéd luck,  
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,  
We will make amends ere long:  
Else the Puck a liar call.  
So good night unto you all.  
Give me your hands, if we be friends,  
And Robin shall restore amends."

Kirk stifled a yawn, and glanced at McCoy, who sat next to him. They joined the rest of the crew members in the ship's theatre in granting the request of the young, black Lieutenant and applauding the members of the crew who made up the cast of the play. The lights came up then, and the applause grew more enthusiastic while the cast took their curtain call. The play itself was one of Kirk's favorites, and this was an especially meaningful performance, partially because it was the first for the new dramatic ensemble that had recently formed aboard ship, but also because it was some sort of milestone anniversary for Shakespeare, and this script had come from Earth in a special dispatch as part of the celebration. A holovid of the performance would be sent back to Earth to be judged in a special contest, and they would receive the word on who won in just over a month.

"Nice evening, wasn't it, Captain?" McCoy said, as the applause finally died out, to be replaced by the happy noises of people leaving a place, after a good performance.

"Very nice, Bones."

"Heading for bed, soon?"

Kirk laughed. "Trying to tell me something, Doc?"

"As a matter of fact—"

The doctor broke off as he realized his Captain was no longer listening, but was instead looking at something over McCoy's right shoulder. He turned around to see what all the commotion was about, and saw that Kirk was looking at Lieutenant Uhura,( still dressed in the knee length green dress that represented the character of Puck and with a vine painted up one leg), and trying to catch her eye. She saw him looking her way, and walked over to where he still sat, half reclining in his chair, one knee bent with his foot resting on the now vacant chair in front of him. He looked tired, which was no surprise, but with everything that the ship had been through in the past weeks, she was mildly surprised that he had found the time to come.

"An inspired performance, Lieutenant," he said, smiling, as she stepped up beside him.

"Thank you, sir. I'm glad you came." She returned the smile.

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world. You've all done the ship proud. Good luck in the contest."

"Thank you, sir. Some of the crew are having a small celebration as soon as everyone has had a chance to change. It's not really a cast party, sir, as we've opened it to anyone in the crew who would like to come. Will you join us, sir?"

"Thank you for asking, Lieutenant, but I think it's past my bedtime, for tonight anyway."

"Sleep well, sir."

"Good night, Lieutenant."

He turned to leave the room, McCoy in tow, when suddenly, a harsh raucous squealing assaulted him from all sides, and the urgent voice of the night shift Communications officer spoke over ship wide intercom.

"Red alert. All hands to battle stations. Repeat, report to battle stations. This is not a drill."

Kirk hit the button, on the nearest comm unit, which opened a channel to the bridge, and said calmly, "Kirk here."

"Davies here, sir. Unidentified ship off port bow. She's not acknowledging our hails, sir."

"On my way, Lieutenant."

"Aye sir."

He turned to McCoy, and said simply, "Well, Bones. Shall we?"

"Wild horses couldn't keep me away."

(0o0)

"Fire phasers, Mr. Chekov."

"Firing phasers." A pause, then the Russian lad's voice again. "A clean miss, sir."

The ship shook with the force of the blow the other ship dealt them, and Kirk was thrown to the ground for the fifth time this battle, along with the rest of the bridge crew. He hit hard and sat stunned for a moment.

"Shield integrity at fifty percent." This was the voice of his First Officer and Science Officer.

"Ready photon torpedoes." Kirk gingerly climbed back into the command chair, and sat mindlessly rubbing his right knee. He had injured it before, and couldn't tell if this was remembered pain or a new injury. The pain in it was increasing steadily.

"Photon Torpedoes armed and ready, sir." Chekhov again.

"Fire photon torpedoes, wide scatter." He began rubbing his left knee, which was apparently having sympathy pains for the other one.

"Torpedoes away." He watched as the weapons found their mark on the other ship, hating the fact that weapons were necessary, but knowing that sometimes the quickest way to keep peace was a show of force. "A hit, sir." Chekhov's voice swam up through his thoughts and brought him back to the action taking place before him. Captain James T. Kirk sat in the center seat of his ship, watching the ship on the view screen directly in front of him. The enemy ship hung dead in space. He just wished he could verify that it _was_ an enemy ship. The identification code and configuration were both unfamiliar to members of Starfleet, but the ship had engaged them, and they had been forced to defend themselves. His crew was at least as battered as his ship, though both were holding together for the moment, and those who were still able were working to repair the damage and trying to recover any survivors from the other ship.

Undoubtedly, Bones was quite busy at the moment, and the Captain hesitated to disturb him, but Scotty was probably just as busy in Engineering, and Kirk was not a man who was good at waiting. He wanted to know what was wrong with his ship and his crew, and he wanted the assurance from friends that the damage could be repaired. Engineering first, then.

Kirk hit the button on the side of his chair that would allow him to communicate with the rest of the ship, and winced as stabs of pain shot through his wrist to his elbow and radiated up to his shoulder. Or maybe sickbay was the logical first choice. He shifted position, trying to hide his discomfort, and cringed as pain shot through both knees all the way down to his ankles. Kirk clenched his teeth, and shifted again, trying to find a comfortable position. He finally found a position that, while not comfortable, allowed him to make his announcement in a voice that did not betray his command presence. "All hands, this is the Captain. You all conducted yourselves admirably. I am sure your department heads will join me in congratulating you all on a job well done. Kirk out."

The restless energy that was so much a part of Jim Kirk's makeup forced him up out of his chair, but he sank back down into it again as he discovered the full extent of his injuries. Immediately noticing his distress, though no one else seemed to see, Spock swiftly and silently moved up behind him and spoke quietly into his ear. "Captain." A pause. "Jim, you are injured. I believe you will find it beneficial to rest. May I suggest that you report to your quarters until Dr. McCoy finishes his work in sickbay, at which time I will send him by to see you?"

"I'm fine, Spock."

"Due respect, sir, you will be no good to anyone very shortly if you continue trying to work with injuries of the severity that yours are." Kirk wanted to snap at his First Officer for his interference, but stopped himself as he realized that was the pain. McCoy would tell him that Spock was doing his job, and he was, but that did not mean that Kirk had to like it. He grunted noncommittally, and grew annoyed for a moment at the hint of amusement he thought he saw in Spock's eyes, but when he looked again, it wasn't there, and he wasn't sure it ever had been.

"Very well, Mr. Spock, you have the con. I trust you will let me know of anything that needs my attention, and stay out of trouble."

"That is always my intention, sir."

Too much a command presence to let any of his pain show on his face, and too stubborn to admit that he might not make it to his quarters, especially in front of the Vulcan, he turned and made a good show of stalking to the turbolift, then as soon as the doors closed, he said, "Captain's quarters", turned the handle to start the thing, and slid down the wall to the floor, where he could stretch his legs out. He wished he hadn't when he reached the corridor leading to his quarters and could not stand up. Hoping fervently that he met no one in the corridor beyond, he crawled out and sat leaning against the wall until he was able to climb up the wall and stand. He allowed the wall to support him to the door of his quarters, then keyed in his code, and gathering his energy, vaulted himself through the doorway, bounced himself off of his desk, and sank with relief onto his bunk.

Just as he did so, the communications unit on his desk whistled. He pulled his bedside viewer unit closer and turned it around then tilted it down until he could see the entire screen. He flipped a switch to open the one way visual channel, so he could see his caller, but opened a two way audio channel, not wanting any member of his crew to see his pain, and no longer having the energy to keep it off of his face. He did manage to keep it out of his voice, though.

"Kirk here."

"Scott here, Captain. We've rescued the only survivor of that ship out there. I think you need to hear her story, sir. Shall I bring her down?"

"Not now, Mr. Scott. What's her origin?"

There was a long pause, and then a slight increase in the Scotsman's brogue, and he finally said, "She's one of us, sir." Kirk fought the urge to ask Scotty to repeat what he'd just said, knowing he would not find it any more believable the second time around. "I believe she has some explaining to do, but for the moment, she can do it to Mr. Spock. I'll catch up with them later. Kirk out." He reached out and turned off the comm. unit. Kirk pushed the viewer away, and sank back onto his bunk, thinking about other injuries he'd incurred in the fleet, both on this starship and others. He'd been lucky, as far as that went. There had been relatively few. Still, he had a tendency to incur major injuries when he was injured.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The young woman stepped off the transporter disk as though she owned the place, and advanced toward Mr. Scott. She was wearing the blue that signified Starfleet Sciences Division. She had obviously heard his conversation with the Captain, and wasn't happy about it. "Commander, take me to this Mr. Spock," she said, in a voice that brooked no disagreement. He noted in her command presence and in the rank on her sleeve that she was highly placed in Starfleet, and used to instant obedience. He hesitated for only a moment.

"Aye madam. Just a moment, please." He toggled a switch on his transporter console, and said, "Transporter room to Bridge, Mr. Scott here."

"Bridge, Spock here. What is it, Mr. Scott?"

"I beamed over the survivor from the alien ship, as the Captain ordered, and she asked to see the Captain, who directed me to you."

"Yes, the Captain is…indisposed. On my way, Mr. Scott."

Spock walked into the transporter room a few moments later, and if he was surprised to see their visitor, he did not show it. Instead, he laced his hands behind his back and said, "Good morning, Commodore. Mr. Scott tells me that you came from the ship we destroyed. Perhaps you might explain what you are doing in this sector of space, and why you opened fire on a Federation vessel?"

"Aye. I might explain both of those things, to the Captain. Where might I find him?"

"Captain Kirk was injured when you fired on us. He is resting in his quarters by order of the ship's Chief Medical Officer. I'm afraid he will not be available for awhile, and until you explain what just happened, I will not give you free run of this ship. If you wish to speak only to him, you will be confined to quarters until that time."

A frown creased the Commodore's features. Finally she said, "Commander Spock, my name is Commodore Dar Thavalan, and I was sent out here to rendezvous with the Enterprise on a two-fold mission, one part of which I can explain, and the other part of which is top secret and confidential. I am a doctor, currently working as Director of Medical Services at Starfleet HQ in San Francisco. I assure you that opening fire on your ship was not intentional. It was, instead, the result of a computer malfunction. I would appreciate being allowed to go to your sickbay and help with the injured, since I am trained medical personnel and regulations state that all trained personnel must render assistance in an emergency. I also regret being the cause of such injuries, no matter that it was unintentional, and would like to make it up to the crew.

Spock moved over to the transporter control platform and opened a channel to sickbay. "Dr. McCoy to the transporter room," he said, calmly, as if announcing the weather. The whistle sounded on Spock's computer unit, indicating that he had an incoming call. "Spock here."

McCoy's gravelly voice answered him, sounding slightly harassed. "What is it, Spock? If you haven't noticed, I'm kind of busy."

"Doctor McCoy, I am currently talking to Commodore Thavalan, a doctor with Starfleet Medical Headquarters, and she has requested to be allowed to work with the injured crewmembers, per regulations."

"All right, Spock. I was just about to visit the Captain. You can both meet me there, if you like, and I will show the Commodore to sickbay when I finish treating the Captain."

"Very well, Doctor McCoy."

(0o0)

Captain Kirk had given up trying to get comfortable, and was now focused on a Vulcan technique, which Spock had shown him once, in an effort to control the pain. He started as the doors to his cabin slid open, and he saw his Chief Medical Officer standing in the doorway.

"Bones," he greeted, and grimaced as his voice betrayed his condition. Not much sound of a starship captain in there now, was there?

"Fine kettle of fish you've gotten yourself into this time," the doctor grumbled, but his hands were gentle as he went about the business of examining his Captain's injuries.

"Bones, the crew. What's the damage?"

"I won't lie to you, Jim, there were some pretty severe injuries. I think everyone will pull through, though. I'd like to be able to say the same for their Captain, but that will depend on his propensity for stubbornness."

"You mean I'm dying?" Kirk asked in mock horror. Bones was relieved to see the spark of humor in his friend's eyes, even through all the pain he must be feeling. "You just might if you don't cooperate with your old country doctor, but if you do what I tell you, I think we can safely say you will come through this all right." He winked at his friend, and his voice lost some of its crustiness. "I'd like to take you down to sickbay to take a closer look, but there's no room, so I guess you can stay here. I would like to elevate your legs for awhile, and I am confining you to quarters and logging you on medical leave until I decide you are well enough to go back to work. I'll be by later with some more equipment and to check on you. I want to see you just where you are now when I come back, and preferably asleep."

He saw Jim starting to protest and said, "Mr. Spock is the best First Officer in the fleet, remember? He can command the ship for awhile by himself. Let him. You are in no condition to do it."

"Yes, mother. Bones, Scotty brought a survivor aboard from the other ship. He says she's one of us, but I'd like you to verify that. I would also like for you to find out what you can from her about what she was doing out here, and if she is one of us, why she attacked a friendly ship. I will want your report and Spock's before I talk to her. Mr. Spock will confine her to quarters until a decision is made as to what is to be done with her."

"Well, Captain, you can ask her yourself in a moment. She and Spock are on their way down." Noticing the look on the Captain's face, he added, "She is trained medical personnel, and regulations state that all trained medical personnel will help in times of emergency. Spock called me because she requested to help, and I told him I was coming to see you. He is bringing her down so I can show her the way to sickbay when we finish. I can have them both wait outside if you like."

"No. As long as she is already on the way, I would like to find out exactly why she fired on us."

At that moment, the whistle sounded to announce a visitor at the Captain's door, and he pressed the release to allow them to enter. A middle aged Andorian woman strode into the room, with Spock at her heels, and stalked directly to the Captain's bed.

Dr. McCoy gasped when he saw her, and his lips formed a single word, "Dee." The only acknowledgement the Captain made was glancing over at his ship's surgeon, but there was no thinking he hadn't heard.

"Mac. Nice to see you again."

"Doctor, you know this person?"

"Yes. Dr. Thavalan is the Director of Medical Services at Starfleet Headquarters. She is based out of the Surgeon General's Office in San Francisco, and also happens to be a dear friend." Turning to Thavalan, he said, "Commodore, this is Captain James T. Kirk, and you have already met Commander Spock." She shook hands with Kirk, and dragged his desk chair next to his bed.

"Captain, Dr. McCoy was kind enough to allow me to come and see for myself how you are doing. I'm afraid it was I who caused your injuries. My ship's computer malfunctioned, and read your ship as hostile. I was unable to override manually before the ship fired on yours automatically. My apologies, and I am grateful to have been beamed over to your ship. I'm afraid Dr. Daystrom's latest line of computers needs some work. I will be sure to mention that to the appropriate offices in Starfleet Command."

"Say no more. We had some experience with the M-5 ourselves, but I thought Starfleet had scrapped that project, based on my report."

"Well, you know how Starfleet is…one office may have scrapped the project, but that doesn't mean that every other office has gotten word of it yet. It was probably just an oversight."

"True. I am just glad we were able to bring you aboard and you were not injured." Kirk's voice was tight, but he was struggling to keep the pain out of it. "Bones, how's that vaccine for Lugubria coming?" Rummaging in his bag, Dr. McCoy withdrew a hypospray and snapped a vial onto it.

"It should be ready for distribution by the time the ship makes planet fall." He injected the Captain with the contents of the hypo. "This should relieve the pain soon. I'm glad you decided to rest here until I could come down. I'd have hated having to scrape you off of the bridge, though I am surprised you made it this far with an injury this severe. You should be in sickbay."

"Doctor, let's let our patient rest. Nice to meet you, Captain Kirk."

"Yes, nice to meet you, too. We'll talk some more a bit later."

"I'll look forward to it."

Kirk's eyelids were getting heavy, and he wasn't sure whether it was from the injection McCoy gave him or not, but sleep seemed an attractive choice. He barely heard the doors close behind the two doctors before he slipped into a deep, healing sleep.

As the Commodore started out of the Captain's quarters, she felt her knees start to buckle. She kept her footing by gripping Kirk's door hard. In an instant, McCoy was beside her, supporting her down the hall to sickbay. Running his portable medical tricorder over her, he discovered no major problems. Her blood pressure was a bit low, but that wasn't all that unusual. The Commodore, recovering herself quickly, pushed his hands away.

"Thank you, Dr. McCoy. I am quite recovered now."

"All the same, I think I'll have you stay here for a while longer. I'd like to do some more tests."

"That's not necessary, Doctor."

"I'll decide what's necessary on this ship, madam. You can come on down to sickbay with me now, or I can confine you to your quarters, and stop by there later, when I am making my rounds." She was within her rights to argue, as she had as much authority on the ship as he did, according to Admiral Komack anyway. That authority was necessary for the mission at hand, but she understood the importance of using it when she needed it and therefore, not abusing it at other times. So, she decided not to press the issue until the day came when she really had to do so, and she knew that day would come, so she simply followed him down to sickbay without comment.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Commodore Kinsey lowered her sleeve over the bandage McCoy had placed on her arm after drawing blood. Several hours had passed while he performed his tests, and she still had her own work to do. "Thank you, Doctor. If you are finished with your tests for the moment, I will return to my quarters. I have much work to do before I meet with Mr. Spock this afternoon."

"I don't think so, Commodore. I think you need to stay here and rest, at least until the blood tests come back."

"I wish I could, but I can't."

"Medical orders, Commodore." So, the day came sooner than expected. Well then.

"Dr. McCoy, you cannot order me to stay here. I have as much authority on this ship during my mission as you do."

"We're a long way from Headquarters out here, ma'am. My authority on this ship is supported both by regulation and practice. Yours, even if it has been approved by Starfleet will take awhile to verify. Until then, as Chief Medical Officer on this ship, I will tell you what you need and what you don't, when it comes to your health."

"Doctor, I trust you understand the position in which you are placing yourself. I don't think you want to quote regulations to me, I wrote most of the medical ones. The only way you could order me to stay here would be if going to my quarters put the rest of the ship at undue risk. It doesn't."

"I'm not so sure about that, Commodore. In the first place, we don't know what you have. It could be contagious."

"It isn't."

"In the second, it could disrupt the normal flow of ship operations."

"It won't."

"How do you know?" She hesitated for just a split second, then decided against telling him how she knew, for the moment. She trusted him, she would not have chosen this ship first if she hadn't, but there was a proper time for these things, and this was not it. It should still be too early to show up in her blood, and if she told him, that would delay her mission considerably. Instead, she tried the argument from a different angle.

"Doctor, do you trust me?"

"You know the answer to that, but please don't ask me to put our friendship above my professional responsibilities. I just can't, Dee."

"I am not asking you to do that, Mac, and you know I wouldn't. You just expressed proper concern about whether my illness would endanger the rest of the ship. You know me well, both personally and professionally. Do you really think I would do anything to endanger this ship?"

"Not on purpose. You are asking me to trust you. I have to ask you—do you know what is wrong with you?"

"Not exactly. If it is anything more than fainting from an environment to which I am not accustomed, it can only be one of two or three afflictions that affect my people, and none of those pose a danger to anyone else. The classified part of my mission here is very important. I must talk to the Captain again, as well as to Commander Spock before the briefing. Plans have already been put into play—plans that could endanger the Enterprise if she isn't prepared for the mission. If you will allow me to go to my quarters, I promise I will rest between meeting with Kirk and Spock and the briefing. I don't know that this is anything serious. People faint for many reasons, and Andorians for more reasons than most. If it is, we will deal with it at a more appropriate time."

McCoy grumbled something about doctors making the worst patients, and then said, "all right, Commodore. I trust you. Please don't make me regret that decision. I will escort you to your quarters."

"I must see the Captain first."

"I'll walk you there, then." They walked out of sickbay and down the hall to the Captain's quarters. She stopped outside the door.

"Do you think the Captain will be well enough to participate in the briefing?"

"Well, that's hard to say. He was much better this morning, so maybe."

"I thought, with his permission and yours, that we might hold the briefing in his quarters, so that he could rest and be brought up to date at the same time. Would that be all right?"

"That's acceptable. You'll need to be sure it is all right with him."

"Thank you, Doctor."

Captain Kirk was sitting up, reading from the view screen in front of him, and making notes on a data pad on his lap. McCoy approached with his tricorder out. The Captain frowned, but said nothing.

"How long have you been working this morning, Jim?"

"Don't mother me, Bones," Kirk replied, irritably. Ah, someone was feisty. That meant he was feeling better.

"Answer my question. You may feel better, but that doesn't mean your body is ready for all that you usually throw at it. If I am to decide how to answer the Commodore's question, I need to know that you aren't over working yourself." The doctor turned his back and begin digging in his medical kit for the ampoule he wanted. He smiled to himself as he spoke. That ought to get Jim's attention.

"Explain."

"First, answer my question."

"For about two hours. What question do you have to answer for the Commodore?"

"I asked Dr. McCoy what your prognosis is, and whether he feels you are up to being involved in my briefing. If he decides that you are, I would like to hold the briefing in here, so that you can rest and be updated at the same time. You have an important part to play in this mission, once you are well, and I want you to have the information you need to immediately proceed once you are released from medical care."

"Bones, how about it? I don't mind holding it in here at all, and I want to be involved in that briefing." Catching the look on both doctors' faces, he continued, in a less forceful voice, "I will rest, Bones. I promise. But this could be important to the ship. I trust Spock, but there are certain decisions that only I can make." Bones held the hypo to Kirk's elbow, and released its contents with a hiss.

"Dammit, Jim. One of these days, you are going to do something that I won't be able to fix. All right, you can be involved in the briefing, if you put that away right now, and rest until it's time. The medicine I just gave you will make you feel better. Don't make the mistake of continuing to work because of it. If you do, you will crash by the time the briefing takes place. Get some rest, Captain. Come on, Commodore. I will show you to quarters."

"Not so fast. I must know the Captain's prognosis. When will he be released from your care? Answer carefully, this is important."

"He has two broken legs, and I am having to regenerate the joints and cartiledge of both knees. In addition to that, he has one broken arm and a broken wrist, and a couple of cracked ribs. I would say a week, if he follows orders."

"I'm afraid I don't have a week, gentlemen. Is there any way to move this along any faster?"

"Bones, what about that blood escalator you gave Spock when you had to operate on the Ambassador? Would it do the same thing for a regenerative drug?"

"Jim, I don't even know if it will work for you, since it has only been tested and used with people of Vulcanoid physiology. It might be worth a try, but I'll need to do some research and some tests, both on you and on the drug. Are you sure you want to do this? It could be a risk."

"I will want to see the results of both sets of tests, and then I will make the decision of whether to call someone else in or allow the Captain to do this. As of right now, Captain, you are under medical quarantine for the next 48 hours, while Dr. McCoy does his tests and any treatment we may decide to do in conjunction with this mission. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. I will inform Mr. Spock of the change in command. Now, I am going to my quarters. Are you coming, Doctor?"

They climbed into the turbolift and rode it up two decks to the VIP guest quarters located above officers' quarters. He palmed open the door to her quarters, and settled her behind the small desk, staying long enough to make sure she had what she needed to be comfortable there, and not have to move around too much. Then, he left.

Opening the bag on her bed, and removing a small box, she removed a data disk and placed it in the computer slot on her desk. She pressed several buttons in sequence, then removed the disk, placed it carefully back into the box, and placed the box back into her bag. With any luck, the program would mask itself as it worked, just as it was designed to do. Sighing, she settled back down to work. She had argued stringently against this part of her mission, but in the end, she had her orders just like everyone else. She comforted herself with the knowledge that she believed Admiral Komack's assurances that this was simply another test for the Enterprise crew, one of many, and it would not endanger their lives. He understood that she was a doctor first, and her oath to that was older than her oath to the fleet, and more important. She had made that abundantly clear. She had also made it clear that when the two were in conflict, she must be a doctor first. She could not take life in any form, not even to save her own, or those of her crew. Her Prime Directive was to sustain life, in whatever way she had to do so.

Spock sounded the chime outside the Commodore's door, and waited patiently for her to open it. "Come," she said. He went. Motioning him to a chair in front of her, the Commodore spoke as soon as the door whooshed closed behind him.

"Commander, I called you down here to discuss the unclassified part of my mission, and to give you your new orders. I will be briefing the senior officers at 14:00 hours in the Captain's quarters. Only those with top level security clearance may attend. I will require some research before the briefing."

"Understood, Commodore."

"All right. Good. My mission, as I said before, has a twofold purpose. Starfleet Command is researching whether psychiatrists and psychologists should be posted on starships, especially those undergoing five year missions. I will be inspecting your sickbay, evaluating your medical staff, and talking to whichever members of the crew I deem necessary, and then reporting my findings back to Starfleet Command. I will travel, over the course of two years, to all twelve starships, where I will perform the same function. Colleagues are doing the same thing with other, smaller ships in the fleet. I will be aboard ship for six to eight weeks, or as long as is necessary to complete my research. Senior officers only are to know anything about this, and then only on an as needed basis. Anything else would skew the results of the test. Do you understand?"

"Aye, madam."  
"Good. Any questions?"

"Yes. You mentioned that you needed me to do some research. What would the subject of this research you require be?"

"I understand that this ship is currently on a medical mission to Lugubria, which is the reason I chose this ship as the first. Dr. McCoy will need all the help he can get on the planet's surface. I cannot tell you why I am asking, but I need to know if there is a way to record outgoing messages, which are using devices other than official ship's communications. I know the computer automatically records messages using the official ship's channels."

"It is possible, Commodore, but it is against regulations."

"Explain."

"It would involve recording all conversations in specific areas of the ship, and that is an invasion of the crew's privacy. However, it is permissible if we tell the crew what we are doing and why, first."

"Mr. Spock, I can't do that. That would defeat my purpose. I guess we'll just have to find another way to do what I am trying to do."

"As you wish, Commodore."

"All right. Your orders are to rendezvous with the USS Liberty at 12:30, at which time, the Enterprise will bring Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan aboard, and render all aid and assistance on a mission of utmost importance to the affairs of the Federation. He will inform you of the specifics of his mission when he comes aboard. Clear?"

"Aye."

"Good. Dismissed." Without a word, Spock turned on his heel and left the room.

(0o0)

Sarek had settled himself in the back of the shuttlecraft while his pilot and some of his staff manned the controls. They were three hours from their rendevous with the Enterprise, and he had still not been able to reach Amanda. Slowing his breathing, focusing on her image, concentrating with all of his considerable strength, he reached out as far as he could go with that tenuous, incredible mind link that joined a bonded Vulcan couple. He had wondered once if the link might be diminished because she was human, but they soon determined it wasn't. If anything, the link was enhanced in some ways, simply because she was not embarrassed to love him.

She was the keyholder, the one who could take the brief discomfort he felt when their fingers touched and make it something beautiful and pleasant. She was the keeper of the truth, or that which was their truth, anyway. She spoke the words of wisdom and comfort, the only one who could bring the small smile into play on his lips. _Amanda, where are you?_ He asked the question silently, in his own mind, waiting for an answer, and when he didn't get it, allowing for a moment his stoic Vulcan persona to slip the slightest bit, knowing that he would be among Humans later, and that he musn't allow them or his son, Spock, to see this side of himself. His mind betrayed then what his heart felt, and that which was usually so well controlled, so carefully concealed in a special place inside him reserved for such things. His spirit screamed, if indeed a Vulcan spirit was capable of such things. _Amanda! _He was sure he would know if she had died, and he allowed himself to take comfort in that thought. At that moment, he didn't care one little bit whether comfort was logical or not. He knew himself to need it. Still, the idea that she was injured and in pain was almost more than he could bear, and not being able to contact her to be sure she was well was making it worse.

(0o0)

At 12:29 precisely, Spock waited quietly in the transporter room. Scott was operating the controls himself, at the Vulcan's request. There was an unease to the Vulcan that worried Scott. A moment later, Dr. McCoy walked in. Spock nodded to him, and McCoy nodded back. He was uncharacteristically silent, watching Spock carefully. Apparently, he noticed something as well. The comm. link whistled at that moment, and Scott toggled the switch to answer it.

"Transporter room. Scott here." He heard the voice of Lieutenant Uhura on the other end of the connection. "U SS Liberty reports ready for transfer, sir."

"Thank ye, Lieutenant."

"Energize, Mr. Scott." Scott's hands worked the levers on the transporter console, and a moment later, an austere and regal looking Vulcan was coalescing in a column of sparkling lights. As soon as the lights disappeared, Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan stepped off the transporter platform, as Spock stepped forward.

"Ambassador," Spock said, raising his hand in the salute.

"Spock."Sarek inclined his head toward his son, returning the salute. The word hung in the air for a moment, and then Sarek continued. "Is there somewhere we can speak privately, my son?" Nodding once, Spock turned and walked through the transporter room doors and into the hallway beyond, his father keeping stride with him.

"I don't think so, Mr. Spock." Sarek turned and looked at the doctor as though he'd never seen him before.

"Explain, Doctor." McCoy looked at Spock, not really wanting to make an issue in front of his father, but unable to justify allowing him to go looking like he did. Spock inclined his head slightly, as if giving his permission to discuss this in front of his father. Sarek had asked for the explanation, but McCoy addressed Spock.

"Mr. Spock, I am concerned about you. You've not slept in over fourteen days, and you've not eaten at all today. Now, I know Vulcans do that sometimes and it may be perfectly normal, but judging by the looks of you, I think it is wearing on you."

"Ah, then you feel it, too," Sarek said, quietly, looking at his son. Spock nodded once, but said nothing. He turned to continue walking down the hall, his father next to him and the doctor trailing a bit behind. When they reached his quarters, Spock ushered them both inside and motioned them to seats. He sat behind his desk, long fingers steepled in front of him, lips pursed, eyes burning more than usual. Finally, he said, "Doctor McCoy, I must speak with my father privately, in regards to what we were just discussing. I cannot share it with you, nor can I explain it in a way you would understand it. Please excuse us, Doctor."

"No dice, Spock. I am not letting you out of my sight. If you can talk to your father in front of me, I will allow the discussion, but if not, I am sorry Spock, Sarek, I just won't take the chance." A flare of electricity seemed to pass between the Vulcans, and Spock raised his hand as if he would meld with his father, but halfway to Sarek's face, a large hand closed on his arm in a vice like grip.

"No, that would not be prudent. We do not know what is wrong. I think, in this case, we might safely speak in front of an outworlder. I understand this man stood with you at your _kun-at-kal-i-fee_. He knows something of Vulcan mysticism. Also, he has a duty to be concerned about your health. You must not deny him his duty. Spock remained impassive for a moment, and then spoke.

"Doctor, what do you know about telepathic contact?"

"I understand the concept, but the only firsthand experience I've had has been on this ship."

"Describe the experience for me."

"You know the experience better than I do, Spock."

"Humor me."

"All right. It is difficult to describe. I feel a presence in my mind that is different from what is usually there, and then I experience thoughts that aren't mine, as though I am the one thinking them. I see images clearly—and I know they belong to someone else. That's how it is at the beginning. At the end, it is as though the thoughts and images and the presence really are mine, and yet, not. I don't know how else to describe it."

"Sufficient, Doctor. That's precisely the way I would describe it as well, normally. Now…it seems that the thoughts and images have a veil over them, or are coming through a room filled with smoke and noise."

"Spock, are you saying that your telepathic radar has gone haywire?" McCoy asked, alarmed.

"Crudely expressed, but essentially correct." McCoy noticed that the Vulcan was not quite meeting his eyes.

"Do you know what it means, Spock?"

"It usually signifies interference of some kind, either on my end or the other. This time, it is illogical that it would be caused by something I did, since by my father's comments, I am inclined to believe he is experiencing precisely the same event."

"I have only seen it this strong in the presence of alien life forms."

"Could we be causing it somehow, Spock?"

"That is illogical. Interaction with your people has never caused it before."

"Some kind of different technology on the ship, then?"  
"Unknown at present, Dr. McCoy."

"What do you need, Spock? I will help you if you tell me how." It was Sarek who spoke.

"The logical first step would be to check the ship for the presence of alien life forms."

"Agreed," Spock said softly. He toggled a switch on his desk. Lieutenant Uhura's face came up on the screen. She started to smile, and then smoothed her face to neutral once again, since she knew it was not necessary to smile at Spock, nor would it be returned. "Miss Uhura, please ask two members of the security team to meet me in my quarters."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Spock out." He turned to McCoy, but was interrupted before he could speak by the intercom's whistle. Opening the channel again, he fully expected to see Lieutenant Uhura telling him something she had forgotten. Instead, Commodore Kinsey looked back at him.

"Commodore."

"Mr. Spock. Is Dr. McCoy there with you?"

"Yes."

"Please meet me in Captain Kirk's quarters as soon as possible. I have something of some import to discuss with you. Bring your father and the good doctor with you."

"I am on my way. Spock out." He closed the channel, and turned once again to Dr. McCoy, who acknowledged him by holding a hypospray to his upper arm. One eyebrow quirked upward, and the look was reciprocated by McCoy, who answered the unspoken question. "Stimulant shot. Your readings are _bad_, Spock, even for you. I really want you to rest, but this will do, for the time being."

"Doctor McCoy, sometimes I am forced to wonder whether you might have some latent powers of telepathy that your file overlooks." Whatever McCoy had expected Spock to say, it certainly wasn't that. A dozen or more retorts ran through the doctor's head, but they all seemed wrong somehow. Finally, he said, "you never know, Spock. You just never know."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The two security guards that Spock had ordered arrived just as Spock and the others were preparing to leave his quarters. He spoke quietly to them, rapidly giving them orders to scan the ship for alien life forms. The ride to the Captain's quarters was made in near silence.

When they entered the Captain's quarters, Kirk was seated on his bunk, propped up slightly with pillows. Commodore Thavalan had pulled Kirk's desk chair to the side of his bed, and was seated facing the other chairs she had set up in the room. It resembled a makeshift briefing room.

Kirk's senior officers were present for the briefing, but it was not the full contingent generally present when he called for a briefing. Without knowing what the nature of the classified mission was, he could only have people with a top level security clearance present, and that was only four people on the whole ship.

"Please, be seated, Gentlemen." They all sat down.

"First, I will tell you that I will be spending the next five or six weeks aboard your ship. My mission is two fold. The first part, as you might have guessed, is an inspection of your sick bay, and evaluation of the medical staff aboard this ship. That is also the shortest part of my mission. The second part, and the one that will be far more time consuming, I think, is to observe the crew in a variety of situations. Starfleet Medical is studying how starship crews react to stressful situations, in order to decide whether more training is needed in this area at the academy, and with a secondary, long term goal of deciding whether psychologists and psychiatrists should be added to the medical staff of starships. I will be accompanying your landing parties when they explore, and I will be speaking to everyone on this ship at some time or other. I will try very hard to respect your duty roster, although that may not always be possible. I will expect your cooperation during those times when unexpected things happen. Any questions?"

"Commodore, I don't have any questions, but I would like to be clear. This is my ship, and my crew. I will not tolerate any orders that put my crew at risk or make it harder for them to do their jobs. I don't care who issued them."

"Captain, I am not here to hurt anyone. Please understand that the Starfleet Surgeon General's office gives me just as much authority on this ship as your Chief Medical Officer has, and I should tell you that I have the full backing of Starfleet Command, and that they will not tolerate any interference that keeps me from doing my job. I am here to help, to catch those crewman that may be on the edge before disciplinary issues happen, and when they do happen, to evaluate the root causes and try to keep them from happening again. If you will trust me to do my job, you might find not only that I know what I am doing, but also that I can be of benefit to the crew of this ship.

Now, a few words about your primary mission. As you all know, two days ago, Starfleet Headquarters received a distress signal from Lugubria. The people are becoming violently ill, and no one knows why. When I say violently ill, I mean just that, gentlemen. Those who suffer from the disease grow more violent as it progresses, and wreak havoc, until they collapse, comatose. Their scientists are stumped. Your mission is to help the medical personnel on the planet determine the problem and effective treatment options.

"Be warned. We know very little about these people, other than they joined the Federation twelve years ago, and we built a starbase there. Ten years ago, they closed it, and when they did, they closed their society along with it. We don't know exactly why that happened, but they never renounced their Federation membership. They are humanoid in appearance, and probably the most human-like beings in the galaxy. Don't make the mistake of assigning human characteristics to them. In looks, they are very like humans, in actions, quite different.

"Doctor, you will be the Medical officer in charge on Lugubria. Once there, the ship and crew are at your disposal for whatever you need, as long as we can be. If we have to leave for any reason, we will do so after others ships arrive, so you won't be without shuttle service for supplies, if needed. Other Federation worlds have ships in route, and once they make planet fall, all of them will answer to you." Now, if there are no further questions, I will ask Dr. McCoy to accompany me to sickbay. If you will excuse me, gentlemen." She stopped at the door, and turned back to face them. "Remember, all of you, that this is a classified mission. Nothing that was said here goes outside these four walls." Kirk looked around and said, "Dismissed." She paused for a moment, watching Mr. Scott leave. "Mr. Spock!" He looked at her inquisitively. "I would like a word with you." Almost imperceptibly, Spock and Kirk both glanced at Dr. McCoy who shrugged slightly. Spock stood at parade rest, hands behind his back, the picture of polite interest. Sarek, Dr. McCoy, and Kirk started to leave the room, and Commodore Thavalan stepped over to them.

"Stay with us, please."

When they were all seated again, Dr. Thavalan looked at Spock. "Commander, I asked to speak to all of you because I have some bad news for you and the Ambassador. I thought the Captain should know, and as ship's CMO, Dr. McCoy also needs to know." Her face was impassive, but her voice gentled just the slightest bit.

"You were too far away to receive a subspace hail when we received the news at Starfleet HQ." She was carefully looking everywhere but at Spock, out of respect for any emotions he might not mean to show. She continued, "We received word last evening that your mother has been abducted."

"How?"

"Nearest they can figure, she was working outside their home in Shi' Kahr, and was literally abducted from the garden."

Spock said nothing, but there was something moving behind his eyes—a fierceness that left no doubt in anyone's mind as to which of the two cultures of his parents he'd embraced the most fully. Of all the things Kirk had experienced in his travels throughout the galaxy, Spock's countenance at that moment was the most disturbing. When he spoke, his voice was carefully controlled, but it contained an edge that few ever heard there.

"Captain, I'd like to request shore leave in order to retrieve my mother."

"I'm sorry, Commander, but that isn't possible. You must be here to assist in the command of this ship until the Captain is back on his feet. Don't worry. We will do everything possible to assist the Vulcan authorities in recovering your mother." Spock nodded grimly, and Dr. Thavalan saw that veil of Vulcan calm wash back over his features, but he was not altogether steady. Apparently, the Captain noticed as well, as did the ship's doctor. McCoy spoke first.

"Spock, I want you to come on down to sickbay and rest for a couple of hours." Seeing the look on Spock's face, he said, "Medical orders, Mr. Spock."

The Vulcan started to say something, but Kirk cut him off. "Don't argue with him, Spock. You don't need to be on the bridge right now."

"Doctor, I think I'd like to be alone. Will it satisfy you if I go to my quarters?"

"I'll walk with you." Spock was in no mood to argue, and he knew McCoy would be satisfied if he allowed the doctor to accompany him to his quarters. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked back the way he'd come, down the hallway and into the turbolift. He ordered it to stop on the floor that held his quarters. Dr. McCoy followed close behind him, careful not to touch him, although he doubted that the Vulcan would object too strongly at the moment. When they reached Spock's quarters, he paused outside the door.

"Thank you, Doctor McCoy. You may return to sickbay now. I will rest."

"I don't think so, Mr. Spock. Your human half, that part of you that came from your mother, must be in great pain right now. I won't ask you to talk about it because I know that won't happen, but I'd like to stay—at least for a little while."

"I said I wished to be alone, Doctor."

"I understand. Give yourself at least two hours, then come on down to sickbay and check in with me, so I can clear you for duty before you go back to the bridge. As of right now, you are grounded, until you come to see me."

"Understood, Doctor."

Spock disappeared behind his door, into the safety of his own cabin, and stretched out on his bunk. The mask fell away, and to his shame, he felt the usually well controlled emotions that he kept so carefully in check, rise within him.

(0o0)

"Captain, with the Ambassador's permission, I am going to ask him to step into the hallway with me for a moment, since his mission is somewhat classified as well, and when I return, I will want to discuss your part in all of this with you."

"As you wish, Commodore." The two men spoke almost in unison. When they reached the hallway Thavalan spoke. "What is it you need for your mission, Sarek?"

"A shuttlecraft and a pilot to start. I must attend to something that has bearing on my mission, then I will return here."

"May I suggest a couple of security guards to add to your list."

"I don't believe that's necessary, Commodore."

"Perhaps not, but Sarek, I am concerned. Starfleet makes it a practice to run any news of this nature through Intelligence agencies, just to see what they make of it, and in this case, they suspect that someone may be trying to get to you and to Spock through Lady Amanda. I just want to be sure that this mission of yours is not playing right into their hands. You would be a powerful pawn, for someone. As would Spock. Together, doubly so. Yet, they have concluded that you are safer together than you would be separately."

'That is assuming I cooperated with them. I would not. Neither would Spock, certainly."

"Everyone has a price, Sarek. You might be surprised what you might do, if they found yours. Please forgive me if I am overstepping, but I would think that your wife would come close to being that price for you, not to mention a newly reunited son. Your regard for your wife is well known throughout the galaxy. Life of a public figure, I'm afraid."

"Commodore, I will consider your suggestion. Your concern is logical, and I find, not without merit."

"Thank you, sir. If you will excuse me, I must finish the briefing."  
"Certainly, Commodore. Thank you for your concern."

McCoy had not yet returned to Kirk's quarters when the Commodore walked back inside, and the Captain turned to look at her as she locked the doors behind her. Kirk's eyes narrowed, but the force of his personality was somewhat weaker than normal, and Dr. Thavalan sensed he was tiring. She would make it quick, then.

"Captain, I'm sorry to take so long to get to the part you play in this mission." She paused for a moment and took a deep breath. "You've been selected for a special mission. You may choose one or two persons to accompany you, but not Mr. Spock. I don't want to leave the Enterprise bereft of its two most senior officers."

"Commodore, I don't understand."

"This mission is highly classified. Only those with top level security clearance may know anything of it, and the fewer who know, the better. Therefore, no one on your ship may know anything while still on board, regardless of security clearance." Kirk nodded, and she continued. "All right, then. The Enterprise, under the command of Bob Wesley, will handle the crisis on Lugubria, then rendezvous with Ambassador Sarek's shuttle. The ship will escort him to negotiate an extremely sensitive matter of great importance to the Federation. You, along with the personnel you choose to accompany you, are going in to retrieve Lady Amanda of Vulcan. Then, you will rendezvous with the Enterprise and ensure that both the Ambassador and his wife make it back to Vulcan safely. The rumor is that the Lady Amanda was abducted because someone is trying to get to the Ambassador through his family. Neither Spock nor Sarek are safe, but they will be safer together than they would separately."

"If Bob Wesley is commanding my ship, who's commanding his?"

"His First is in line for a ship of his own, but Starfleet has had cause to doubt whether he is ready. This will be a good test run for him, what with his own starship crew and another captain and crew to support him. If he gets into any trouble, he has close to seventy years of command experience to draw on between the three of us."

"So Bob Wesley will be the fleet commander for the mission?"

"Well, that depends on whether you are well enough to do it when you come back."

"My crew is very close. They don't deserve to be kept in the dark on a matter of this importance."

"I'm sorry, but that's the way it has to be at the moment. That falls into the purview of my mission, and I can say nothing of it. Perhaps you will be able to tell them at a later time, and if not, they will know, soon enough."

"When do we leave?"

"Intelligence tells us that the interception point will be a twenty four hour journey for this ship, but the ship they are on will not pass that close to Enterprise's position for another four days. That gives you three days to get well, one day for travel, and then you must complete your mission. Are you up for that, Captain?"

"Yes, I am."

"You may choose two people to accompany you on this mission, but not Mr. Spock. I will not leave the Enterprise bereft of command personnel. Remember, you can tell them nothing until you are underway. Lives depend on this, so be certain."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Have you someone in mind to accompany you?"

"How many of my personnel are you allowing me, Commodore?"

Smiling slightly, she said, "I know you would take the whole ship if you could, Captain, but Bob will need a few of your people to help him run this ship, if you would like it returned to you in one piece, and I still have a job to do-one that requires access to your people. Still, I think we can spare one or two for your cause. Will that be sufficie—?" She broke off as the doors to Kirk's cabin slid open to reveal McCoy, who glared at the world in general as he made his way to Kirk's side.

"I will let you know." She had her tricorder out now, and ran the medical wand over him. Shocked at his readings, (he should not have still been conscious), she withdrew a hypo from the bag that sat on the table next to her, although Kirk had not noticed it there before, and injected him several times, changing the ampoules between each one.

"What are you doing?" Kirk asked, eyelids already heavy with sleep.

"Ensuring that you get enough rest to heal properly, Captain Kirk. Remember that you are under medical quarantine for the next 24 hours, at least. You are not to leave your quarters during that time, unless either McCoy or myself comes to take you somewhere else. Dr. McCoy, I will be down in sickbay at 17:15 today for my inspection. See that you are there to accompany me."

"Aye, ma'am."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Hours later, Kirk woke up, radiating heat from every part of his body and with a prickling pain in his knees. As he got his bearings, he realized that he wasn't in his quarters any longer, but was instead in one of the private rooms in sickbay. The diagnostic table was making a high pitched beeping sound, and the heat was from some form of infrared light, so bright it burned his eyes when he glanced at it. Wondering how long he had been in sickbay, he reached to touch the button to call someone—a nurse or doctor—anyone who could tell him why he was here. A strong and very feminine voice stopped him.

"Captain, I am glad you are awake. How do your knees feel?"

"They don't hurt exactly. It is more like a pins and needles type pain, only a little more severe than that, I think."

"Good. The medicine is doing its work, then, and the bones in your knees and your arm are regenerating. The regeneration is highly accelerated with the addition of infrared light. You will be a bit uncomfortable for a while, but if you can tolerate it as it is, the process will conclude tomorrow morning. You will have two days of physical therapy, and should be ready to leave on schedule. Be warned, this process will take a toll on your body. Use this time to rest, as much as you can. I will check in with you later."

(0o0)

Spock had stretched out on the bunk in his quarters, trying to calm the deep disquiet that had taken hold of him more completely than ever before. He had been lying there for awhile, and usually he would be able to calculate precisely how long that was, but right now, he could not do so. He needed, once again, to find that reserve of Vulcan calm that was usually inside him, so that he could reach out to his mother. He slowed his breathing, attempting to concentrate on his private meditations, but he kept seeing his mother's face. Right now, he was powerless to stop the images invading his mind, threatening to overwhelm him. Finally, he rose, preparing to make his way down to sickbay to obtain McCoy's permission to go back to work. He needed to think about something else for awhile.

The chime outside his door sounded, and he thought it was probably the captain. Although he did not want to see anyone, really, Jim was his commanding officer, and he'd been a friend to him, in more definitions of that word than he'd realized existed, for as long as they'd known one another. Spock owed him no less than to allow him to come in. Sighing deeply, he said, "Come." Spock did not see the Captain when he came in, since he had his back to the door, and could not bring himself to turn around and acknowledge the visitor. His control was still shaky, and he did not wish to show that part of himself to anyone.

"Spock," a quiet voice, not at all like the Captain's, said. He started, and at last he turned slowly to face his visitor. Hisfeatures showing just the slightest hint of surprise, he hastily started to come to attention, but then a hand came up in a decidedly non-Starfleet, but rather universal gesture that meant he should rest easy. She regarded him intently for a moment, and if he had not known better, he'd have thought she was reading his body language and mental discharges to see how he was, but that was not possible, since Andorians were not a telepathic race. Almost as if she knew what he was thinking, she said, "If you cannot quiet your mind, you'll never be able to reach your mother. My knowledge of the Vulcan mental disciplines is limited, but if I am not mistaken, you can reach her, even though she's not telepathic. Can't you?" While she was talking, she dialed the replicator to give her a pot of hot water. When it came, she withdrew a pouch from her pocket, drew out a handful of leaves, and threw them into the pot. Spock eyed the teapot and his visitor somewhat warily. "What do you know about Vulcan mental disciplines?"

"Not nearly as much as I know about making Vulcan spiced tea, and that's not saying much." The tea had steeped long enough now, so she poured it into the cups, threw some more ground herbs, of a different kind, into the cups and swirled them around to mix them. She put one down in front of her own place, and slid one across the desk from her. Mechanically, Spock sat.

"Drink that. You need something in your stomach." She sipped hers as she sat watching him. He picked up the cup, recognizing a medical order when he heard one, and sipped it. He was pleased to find that it tasted precisely like it was supposed to taste.

"You are the first non Vulcan I have ever known who could stand to drink this tea. Where did you learn to make it?"

"I lived on Vulcan while I was in medical school, but it was my mother who taught me how to make it. How many Andorians do you know who have pointed ears, and no antennae?"

Spock's eyes lightened as though presented the obvious answer to a mystery that had been bothering him. "So, you are half Vulcan and half Andorian?"

"I believe that's what I just said."

"So you are telepathic?"

"By nature yes, but not by training."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that I have the gifts of both my parents, but I grew up on Andor. I was not subjected to the training that most Vulcan children are adept at by the time they are six years old. Spock, I know enough about Vulcan mental disciplines to know that they are a very private affair, however, if you are agreeable, I think I might be able to help you reach the Lady Amanda."

"How? You stated already that you are not equipped with the training to do such as this."

"That's true, but I do possess the strength and the focus that you are lacking right now. If you can trust me to do so, I believe I can lend you the strength to find that place within yourself from where you can speak to your mother, mind to mind." Almost imperceptibly, Spock inclined his head slightly, and she held up both hands, palms facing outward, watching him closely as she did so. Very slowly, he lifted his hands to hers, until only the tips of their fingers brushed lightly together. A jolt of electricity shot through them both, and then a wave of calm washed over them. For the first time in over an hour, Spock felt centered again. Leaning on her strength, he took the time to slow his breathing and sharpen his focus.

Finally, he reached out to his mother, and though she could not answer him in the same manner a telepath would, he read her emotional state almost immediately. She had always been very careful not to show too much emotion, since she lived among Vulcans, but strong emotion was difficult to block out, even for a well trained telepath, and she was seriously injured and badly frightened, which caused her emotions to burst forth through the tight control she used to hold them in check. He heard nothing articulate, and it would have been inaccurate to say that they spoke, there was too much distance between them, and her mind was too scattered at the moment for that, but he sensed her fear, the weakness from her injuries, and he sent thoughts and images to reassure her. No matter that he did not feel all that reassured himself.

When convinced that he had done all he could to reassure her, Spock came back to himself slowly, opening eyes he'd not realized were closed, and very cautiously drew his hands away from hers. When he did so, she stood up very slowly, as though dazed.

"Commodore, are you all right?"

"Yes, Mr. Spock. I am well. I'm glad you were able to reach your mother. McCoy's two hours are almost up, and you seem much steadier now. If you wait another half hour or so, then he will probably let you go back to work. I will be in my quarters. Call me if you need me."

(0o0)

Lieutenant Uhura was in a bad mood. She lifted her tray from the replicator a little bit impatiently and moved to find a table in the ship's main dining facility. The alarm in her cabin had malfunctioned, and then she had been delayed with personnel issues this morning, and as a result she was running a tad late, and would be cutting it fine to make it to the bridge on time for her shift. Looking around, her impatience grew as she noticed that every table was full. She saw motion out of the corner of her eye that drew her attention. Looking up, she saw two familiar figures waving her toward their table. Distractedly, she made her way toward them as the two went back to their conversation.

"Did you hear Spock and Dr. McCoy discussing Lugubria?"

Lieutenant Uhura stiffened in her chair. _Lugubria. Oh, please, no. Goodness no. Not right now. Please, not right now._ She forced herself to breathe deeply and tried to bring her mind back to some semblance of calm from the absolute terror invoked by the mention of a name she had not heard in more than ten years, a place she thought she had put behind her.

"—them talk, it is more fascinating than anything we've run into in a long time. So, Pavel, are you planning to join the landing party?"

"I vill wolunteer, but I don't know if Captain Kirk vill let me go."

"Both of you would be smarter to stay on the ship for this mission, gentlemen," she snapped abruptly. Both Sulu and Chekhov looked at her as though she had slapped them. They blinked at each other. Neither of them had ever heard their friend speak this way before, using that tone of voice. They were not sure what to think. Before they had the opportunity to respond in any way, she rose abruptly, snatched her tray off the table, and they watched in stunned silence as she crossed the room and slammed the tray down on top of the disposal chute, violently jabbing the buttons that would clean it and whisk it off back down to the kitchens to await transport once more. Then she stalked to the door, uncomfortably aware of the eyes on her from around the room.

"Vhat's vrong vith her?"

"I don't know, Pavel, but I intend to find out. Come on, we'll be late for duty if we don't get back to the bridge." The two junior officers rode the turbolift up to the bridge, and when it stopped, they took their places, noticing that three of the ship's four most senior officers were all on the bridge at the same time, which usually meant that something serious was going on. Strategically, it was not a smart move to have all those with appropriate levels of command experience in the one place where, if there was an accident, they would all be destroyed at the same time, potentially leaving the ship without a command staff, and Captain Kirk only took the chance when there was something serious that needed to be discussed, and it would not wait for a briefing room. Unfortunately, this meant that Uhura was feeling the full brunt of the Captain's tongue in front of almost all of the senior officers on the ship. She stood stiffly at attention facing the Captain, who was standing in the area immediately in front of the command chair.

"Lieutenant, would you care to explain your tardiness?"

"No sir, I wouldn't," she replied tartly, and an audible intake of breath traveled around the bridge. Spock raised an eyebrow. She would catch hell for that one, Sulu knew. Only a fool would even consider addressing Kirk in that manner, or with those words. Lieutenant Uhura was very competent, and hardly a fool. What was wrong with her? Sulu cringed as Kirk's eyes narrowed and a muscle began working in his jaw. "At least, not with so many people around," she amended, somewhat sheepishly.

"All right," he said slowly, in that dangerously calm tone that was so much like a cat playing with its captive mouse before springing on it and destroying it. "Lieutenant Uhura, you will go to your quarters and stay there until I call you. Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy, you are with me. Lieutenant Sulu, you have the conn. Please call Mr. Palmer and Mr. Stiles to the bridge. Chekhov, you will act as science duty officer until Mr. Spock returns to the bridge. Gentlemen, if anything comes up, call me."

"Aye, sir."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Stepping into his quarters from the hallway, Kirk immediately sat down behind his desk, his signal to the others that they too should sit. They did.

"Opinions, gentlemen."

"I'd like to ask her some questions, Jim. It is obvious to me that she's been exposed to some form of stress or trauma."

"On what do you base that opinion, Doctor?"

"On my own observations. Jim, that's not like Lieutenant Uhura at all. You know that."

"I agree, Captain. It is totally out of character for her. I suggest that might make her less inclined to tell us what is going on, and respectfully recommend that we see what shows up in her record first, and then call her in to talk about what we find out."

"Agreed. Let's have a look at her record, Mr. Spock." His long fingers played over the keyboard in front of him, and her record came up on the screen. Kirk looked at it with admiration. She was indeed one of the best communications officers in the field. While they were reading, the comm. link whistle sounded. "Kirk here."

"Sulu here, Captain. Request permission to turn conn over to Mr. Scott and come down to discuss some important information with you, sir."

"Information about what, Lieutenant?"

"About the situation with Lieutenant Uhura, sir. Something that happened in the officers mess just before she came on to the bridge. I am concerned for her, Captain."

"All right, Mr. Sulu. Permission granted. Call Mr. Scott to the bridge, and then come down."

"Aye, sir. Thank you, Captain."

Sulu walked into the Captain's quarters and was immediately met with an intense hazel stare. "What's this all about, Lieutenant?"

"Sir, Ms. Uhura sat with Mr. Chekhov and myself in the officers mess. I think we made her angry, but there was no reason for her to be angry. She made something of a scene as she left. I've never seen her that way before, and I am concerned that she might do something harmful to herself or someone else."

"Tell me, Mr. Sulu, what was it that you did that made the Lieutenant angry, in your opinion?" Spock asked, quietly.

"I'm not sure, sir. I noticed her behavior changed right after we mentioned Lugubria." Kirk's eyes narrowed. "Lieutenant, are you aware that it is against regulations to discuss information to which you might be a party on the bridge, in a place as public as the officer's mess? That mission has not yet been announced to the crew at large. You had no business mentioning it there." Sulu hung his head.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, Captain. I take full responsibility, and will understand any disciplinary measures you wish to take."

"I don't think that will be necessary, Lieutenant, so long as I don't hear of this happening again. I am sure I won't. I think we understand one another, eh, Mr. Sulu?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, Lieutenant. You are dismissed."

"Thank you, sir."

"Now then, gentlemen, getting back to Lt. Uhura, what do you propose we do?"

"Jim, I think Mr. Sulu is correct. Have a look at this." The Vulcan Science Officer directed his Captain's attention to the highlighted information that sat blinking on the screen.

"So, Ms. Uhura was assigned to Lugubria for a short amount of time. Let's have a look at the mission briefing, Spock."

"There isn't one, sir."

"What?"

"There is no briefing sheet for this mission, sir."

"All right, then, let's move on to the Description of Service that details what she did there."

"Here it is, sir, but it is very vague. It details the starting and ending dates of the mission, indicates that her mission was interrupted three months early and she was reassigned to a starship for her own safety, and then simply summarizes that she served as a communications intern at a brand new, then state of the art, starbase in that quadrant. Jim, it is almost like someone covered up that for which she was really there."

"Intuition, Mr. Spock?"

"No, sir, simply a knowledge of Starfleet's paper work practices. They give more information than this in a briefing for a top secret mission." Kirk frowned.

"Well, let's have a look at the ship's logs for the mission, both the medical log and the Captain's log. Whoever was in command should have said something when she came aboard the ship, and if not, if her mission ended due to injury, you would think that the medical log would at least have noted it."

"Agreed." Spock's long fingers manipulated the keyboard for a moment, and he read silently, swiftly looking for information. Finally he looked at the Captain. "Jim, there is nothing in the medical logs about it, and only a brief note in the ship's log that a young Academy intern joined the crew and was aboard the ship when it left the planet, being transported back to the academy for a final semester."

"Let me see the medical log, Mr. Spock," McCoy demanded, moving up next to him. Spock put it in front of him, and he was uncharacteristically silent for a moment, and then he said, "that's odd." He clicked a few more buttons and pulled up her medical record, and read silently for a few minutes. Then, he said, "She would undoubtedly have been sent to Medicine for the medical check required of any Starfleet crew member who has spent any length of time on a foreign world, Federation or not, and a medical debrief, that was SOP even then, and it should have been noted, in her record if not the log. It also fails to mention who examined her. I'd like a word with that medical officer. This is the sloppiest record keeping I've ever seen."

"Mr. Spock, who was the Captain of that ship? I think I agree with the Doctor. I want to know what's going on here, and the best way to do that might be to talk to some folks who were there at the time. If the record will not give us the name of her doctor, the Captain may remember. If not, he may at least be able to shed some light on the mission and why she left so abruptly."

"Captain, why not just talk to Lieutenant Uhura first, and ask her for the story?"

"All right, Mr. Spock. We will do that right now. Why don't you go to her quarters and escort her down here."

Lieutenant Uhura walked nervously down the hallway, slowly approaching the Captain's quarters. She had never spoken to Captain Kirk the way she had today, and in front of all the senior officers as well. She knew that he was angry. He had a right to be. Her behavior was insubordinate, and she did not know why she had done it. He had given her no reason to act that way.

She stopped in front of the Captain's quarters, preparing herself mentally to ring the bell outside the Captain's door. He was already angry, and he had told her to go to her quarters and stay there. By coming to talk to him, she was definitely not following orders, and yet she felt the need to try to explain. A second later, the door slid open, and Spock stood there looking at her. If he was surprised to see her there, he did not show it at all. Kirk and McCoy were seated at the Captain's desk, and they rose as Spock escorted Lt. Uhura inside and held a seat for her at the desk. When he spoke, Kirk's eyes were narrow and his voice hard.

"Sit down, Lieutenant. You were confined to quarters, I believe."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir. I felt the need to apologize, sir, and try to explain my actions."

"All right, Lieutenant, let's have it."

"Yes, sir. Before I explain my reasons, I want to say that my behavior was disrespectful and insubordinate, and I take full responsibility for that, and I understand any disciplinary measures you wish to take."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Sir, I don't know what came over me. When I heard that we were going back to Lugubria, I, well, I just lost it, sir."

"I take it, Lieutenant, that something happened when you were on Lugubria before that gave you cause to hope to never see it again."

Lieutenant Uhura's whole expression changed. What did her records contain about that previous trip? She had never been allowed to see, but Nilbud had said—oh no, what if he was wrong? What if they had put something in there about it after? What if—Kirk's voice broke through her reverie.

"Look at me, Lieutenant." She knew better than to disobey him again. "Please answer my question."

"Yes, sir."

"How long were you there?"

"Almost six months, sir." She hoped he would not ask why she had left, as she could not possibly tell him the truth, and did not want to lie.

"Tell me about that."

"What would you like to know?"

"Any details you feel are pertinent to our mission. Details about their culture, their language, safety concerns, things like that."

"Ah. Well, perhaps, it would be better if Mr. Spock does not join the landing party on this particular mission."

"Why?" She paused for a moment, not entirely comfortable giving the answer the Captain wanted, right in front of Spock. She glanced at the austere Vulcan. Spock favored her with a slight nod, and she continued.

"The Lugubrians are a completely hedonistic society. They value emotion, specifically the emotions of pleasure and self gratification almost to the exclusion of all else. They are a sort of antithesis to the Vulcans sir, so much so that they see the Vulcan way of life as a threat to their own, and they generally try to kill them on site. The Vulcans do have superior strength, however, so the attempt is generally not entirely successful. Honestly, these people make the Argelians look like models of self sacrifice."

"All right, Lieutenant. Anything else?"

"No sir. Only a few odd cultural and lingual habits, but nothing that will pose a danger to the ship or her crew."

"Why only six months, Lieutenant? Most of the internship postings last at least nine months, and sometimes a year." Oh no, she had hoped he wouldn't ask about that. And now that he had, there was no way he would let her off with anything less than the whole story. James Kirk was nothing if not thorough. He did not like surprises. She supposed she could not blame him for that.

Kirk glanced at his communications officer, then glanced at Spock, who shot a meaningful look right back at him. Kirk could tell that his question had rattled the usually unflappable communications officer, almost as badly as the time that they had been forced to kiss by some egotistical aliens with visions of kidnapping Dr. McCoy, and a rather overdeveloped sense of telepathy. The fact that she was rattled now told him there was a story in there somewhere, a story almost as good as that one, and his instincts told him that the safety of his crew depended upon his finding the answer to his question. His eyes locked with hers, and this time, there was a firmness there which left her no choice but to answer. She cleared her throat. To answer could be more dangerous to all of them than remaining silent.

"Captain, with all due respect, the answer to that question is quite a long story, and one which I am not sure it is in anyone's best interest to tell."

"Why not?"

"Sometimes, sir, the past is best kept back where it belongs."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: This is a re-post of Chapter 7. The chapter that was posted this morning had some extra scenes, which are planned for later, in it. I write these stories for fun, not for profit, and the only part of it that I own are my original worlds and characters. Please read, review, and enjoy. Thank you. **

Chapter 7

"As so often happens, the past is now the present, Lieutenant, and I must make some decisions. Please help me do that."

"All right." She swallowed hard, and studied the floor between her small boots. "Is this off the record, sir?"

"No, this is not off the record, Lieutenant. Tell your story." She took a couple of deep breaths to steady herself, but still she said nothing. Then, she looked at the Captain with an expression he had seen before—once before, on a normally inscrutable face—and he instantly realized how much this story would cost her, and how much she needed the same assurance that he had offered to that other face. "Lieutenant Uhura, anything you tell us here tonight will be treated with the strictest confidence. I want you to know that. I am asking you to trust me." He looked quickly at Spock and McCoy, and amended. "To trust us."

"I do, sir. This story is very personal to me, and it hurt many people then, including me, and resulted in the deaths of two people who meant a great deal to me. I would not see that happen again." Uhura paused for a moment, and McCoy moved over behind her and placed a supportive hand on her shoulder. A small sigh escaped her lips as she felt the doctor's warmth and his support. She steeled herself for their reactions, took a deep breath, and began the story.

"I've wanted to be in Starfleet since I was a little girl. My first assignment was as a backup communications officer for the brand new starbase on Lugubria. What I am about to tell you happened during my final internship before graduating from the Academy. One day, a few weeks after I started the Internship, the base commander called me into his office and assigned me to accompany his first officer and another man, Lieutenant Mitchell, on a mission to a neighboring planet. Lieutenant Mitchell and I were," she paused for a moment, trying to adequately describe the relationship, "well, close, sir. Our mission was to establish trade routes between the Federation and the planets surrounding the Space station, in this case Barga 3. I was supposed to go as a linguist, and help with capturing the language for input into the universal translators. At that time, much of that area was uncharted space.

"I was in the library, studying what we knew of the language, as well as languages with the same parent language and grammatical structure. I don't think they realized I was there, and I couldn't help overhearing them talking. It sounded as though they planned to set up Lieutenant Mitchell." Here she paused, as if unsure of where to pick up the story from there, and Kirk asked, "Who, Lieutenant?"

McCoy glowered at the Captain, daring him to challenge her again. Uhura said, "Two men. I didn't know what to do. What if I was wrong? They were my superiors, but at that time, almost everyone was. Finally, I went to Lieutenant Mitchell. I just wanted to warn him to be careful. I told him what I had heard. He didn't think there was really any danger, but he promised he would be careful.

She continued. "We found ourselves in a situation where we were being held at gunpoint by the natives, and the First officer ordered me not to fire under any circumstances. Then, he said something that I didn't understand and the natives fired on us. Lieutenant Mitchell and I were both hit with stun blasts, and when I woke up, Mitchell was dead. Later on, I looked up what I thought I had heard the First Officer say, and then I was convinced Mitch was set up. The First had said something like, "He's a traitor and he's trying to ruin the deal."

Tears sprang unbidden to the Communication's officers eyes, but she didn't bother to wipe them away. She saw the face of Dave Mitchell in her mind, the first man she had truly loved, and she cried for him, and for what might have been.

"What happened next," prompted Kirk, gently.

Uhura fought to keep her voice steady, but in the telling of the story, it was as though some poisonous substance was being leached from her body. She was starting to feel better. "I went to the only other person I knew I could trust, the man who was the reason I was there in the first place. He was my sponsor at the Academy, and a good friend of my father's. He was also highly placed in Starfleet Medical circles. When he heard I was up for my internship, he requested that I be allowed to come and work there. I told Nilbud what was going on. He didn't say much, just said that he would look into it. Told me not to mention it to anyone else, until he'd had a chance to do some research, and ask some well placed questions. I just felt better because he seemed to believe me.

"Two days later, I had an Internal Affairs Agent approach me, and tell me that they were investigating the incident, and he asked some questions. I didn't want to answer them, since Nilbud had told me not to talk to anyone, but he ranked me, and he also told me that if I did not answer his questions, I would be considered an accessory, and thrown in the brig. After I answered them, I was suddenly confined to quarters. The First stopped by to see me and told me I needed to stop making things up. He also showed me that the word for traitor and hero are very similar in the language we were speaking, He laid it all out for me, his side of the story, and I had to admit that it made sense. It could have happened the way he said. Somehow, I was never able to convince myself that it did happen that way, though."

"What did Nilbud discover?" Kirk asked.

A strange expression crossed Uhura's face, and her knees gave way and she sank down onto the floor, and sat rocking back and forth, hand over her mouth, uttering small squeaking sounds as she rocked. McCoy, eyes filled with concern, knelt down in front of her, and waited for her to answer. When she had not done so, after a moment, he took her hand and helped her sit back down in her chair. Finally, she said, "I'm not sure. I never had a chance to find out. He had called me down to sickbay and asked me to take a ride with him in his ground car so that we could talk it over. When I got there, he was gone, along with his car. I heard about the accident on Starfleet Communication Channels. He didn't make it." She put her hands over her face, and dissolved into tears.

McCoy gently took her hands, and pulling them away from her face, made her look at him. She was exhausted, he could tell that, but the tears seemed to be having a cathartic effect, and so he simply sat and allowed her to cry until she ran out of tears. When she finally finished crying, he looked at her and said, "Uhura, I know that was difficult for you." Turning to the Captain, he said, "I'd really like for her to spend the night in sickbay, Jim, so I can do some tests, and so we can talk some more about all of this."

"I'm fine, Doctor McCoy," she started to say, but Kirk did not allow her to get the words all the way out before he interrupted.

"Stand up, Lieutenant."

"Aye, sir." She stood once again at attention, staring straight ahead. Kirk's voice was not unkind when he spoke again. "Rest easy. I want you to know how much it means to me that you trusted me enough to share this information with me. I need you to trust me just a little further now, because I have one or two more questions for you, and then we will discuss what happens next."

"Thank you, sir."

"Miss Uhura, forgive me, but I must know—were you involved in any "impropriety", as you called it, with Dave Mitchell?" Uhura didn't answer. She just stared at Spock in amazement, shocked that it was he who asked the most personal question of all. Vulcans did not ask personal questions. He regarded her calmly, and she thought she saw just a hint of amusement in his eyes as he waited for her answer alongside the other men in the room. She hung her head. When she looked back at him, it was gone, and she couldn't be sure it had ever been there. Finally, Captain Kirk said, "In all the time you've served aboard ship with me, Lieutenant, this is the first time I have ever seen you truly rattled. I'd say that's a pretty good record. Please answer Mr. Spock's question."

Looking everywhere except at the three men in the room, she finally said, "Yes, sir."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. It is important that I know that when it comes to advising the Captain. My compliments on your honesty."

"And mine. I think you should allow Dr. McCoy to take care of you for a while now. Go on down to sickbay with him. Let him help you sleep." The Captain spoke in little more than a whisper of velvet softness, in a voice that his crew had learned to trust, a voice that was deadly serious.

"Aye sir." Head hung in something close to abject embarrassment, she allowed the doctor to take her arm, and walked with him out the door and down the hall to sickbay. He led her straight to his office, past the sympathetic glances from Nurse Chapel and the curious stares of the orderlies. Once inside, he closed the door and sat her down in a chair in front of his desk, while he perched on the edge of the desk, facing her.

"Lieutenant Uhura, look at me," he said, gently. She really tried, but she just couldn't bring herself to look up at the doctor, no matter how kind his voice was. He tried a different tack. "Nyota, there is nothing to be embarrassed about, you know. The Captain, Mr. Spock, all of us have some skeleton in some closet, somewhere. Most of them are not revealed in quite the way yours was, nor do most of us have to reveal them to our boss, but they are there. Are you all right?"

"Yes, sir." Finally her gaze found the doctor's, and it was with a kind of defiance that she met his eyes. Smiling slightly at the returning spark he saw in the young communications lieutenant, he opened his desk drawer, withdrew a tiny bottle, and poured some of its contents into two glasses. He set one down in front of her, and kept one for himself.

"Sip that, slowly. It has quite a kick." He sipped his own drink, watching her carefully as he did so. After she finished about half the glass, her body was visibly starting to relax.

"Do you feel like telling me how you are feeling, Lieutenant? I really can't allow you to go to bed without knowing that you are all right."

"I'm all right, Doctor McCoy."

"Convince me."

She sighed. "All right. I feel a bit embarrassed at the spectacle I made of myself in the Captain's cabin. I feel stupid that I allowed any of it to happen in the first place, and I feel like Captain Kirk will look at me differently now that he knows I cracked once before. He will always be afraid I might do it again. Not to mention the fact that Spock will logically probably never trust me again. He will always be wondering if today is the day Uhura cracks. And, I am terrified I'll wash out."

"That's a lot for one person to be feeling all at once, don't you agree? Let's examine those thoughts and feelings one at a time, shall we?"

"Do we have to do this tonight?"

"No time like the present. Do you have someplace better to be?"

"No sir."

"All right, then, first things first. Think about what you know of the Captain. Does Jim Kirk seem like the kind of man who will be bothered by the fact that you fell apart once from the stress of the Academy and the expectations placed on you by your family?"

"I don't know, sir. I thought I knew him well, but now I am not sure. Not sure how anyone can feel about having a crazy person running around their ship, masquerading as a Starfleet officer. Somehow it is worse that Spock saw it. I'll never be able to function in front of him again."

"Is that what you really believe, Lieutenant?"

"Aye sir." He refilled her glass, now empty, halfway, and looked at her appraisingly for a moment, trying to decide where to go next. Making a quick decision, he put on his best drill sergeant persona and hardening his voice, said, "Lieutenant, come to attention, chest out, head up, ready for surprise inspection." At the tone in his voice, Uhura jumped into motion, with a crisp, "Yes, sir." She came to attention as ordered, staring straight ahead as she did so.

"Lieutenant, you are no different now than you were two hours ago, and I assure you, the Jim Kirk I know is not going to treat you any differently either. You are a part of this crew and that is all that matters to the Captain. You know that." He paused for a moment to allow that to sink in.

"As for Spock, that pointy eared hobgoblin might not show it, but he has the measure of most of the folks aboard ship, and as with everything with Spock, that measure is accurate. This will not change what he thinks of you either.

"As for the worry whether this is the day Uhura cracks, is it? You are the one with the answer to that. How you answer will depend on what you learned. I advise you to get over the embarrassment. There is nothing for you to be embarrassed about. The Captain wanted the story, and you gave it to him, which took a great deal of courage, since it was a personal story. That does not sound to me like a person who will wash out. Does it sound that way to you?"

"No sir." Finally, she made eye contact with the doctor, and he winked at her. Surprisingly, after their discussion, she felt much better.

"Thank you, Doctor McCoy. I feel better now."

"As you were, Lieutenant," he said, realizing she was still at attention. "I am glad to hear that. Do you think you might be able to sleep without my help, or shall I give you something?"

"I feel like I could sleep for a week, now. In fact, maybe I will go back to my cabin and burrow into bed, and stay there for a week. How's that?"

"Maybe tomorrow, Lieutenant. Tonight, I have to insist that you stay here. I want you close to someone, just in case. All right?"

"All right. Thank you, Doctor."

He toggled a comm. link channel open on his desk, and when Nurse Chapel answered, he spoke into it. "Chris, please have a pair of medical coveralls waiting for Lieutenant Uhura. I'll send her out to get them in just a couple of minutes."

"Yes, Doctor."

McCoy turned back to look at Uhura. He was glad she was better, but she wasn't off his hook just yet.

"Tomorrow, I will want to perform an examination, and some psychiatric tests. I know you've had them before, and Nilbud did not find anything, but Leonard McCoy wants to see for himself. After that, I will want to talk to you some more, and we will decide together where to go from there. Ok?"

"Yes, sir."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Uhura sat at her station on the bridge, growing more and more embarrassed as she sat there. She turned in her chair toward the center seat on the bridge, usually occupied by the Captain. For a moment, she had forgotten he wasn't sitting there. Although she trusted the Captain when he said that her story would be regarded with strictest confidence, she felt as though everyone on the bridge knew what had happened, and were staring at her. She felt Spock's eyes on her from the command chair as he noticed her movement. Swallowing hard, trying not to show how she felt, she spoke quickly. "Sir, I'm receiving a coded transmission from Starfleet Command. It's very faint. I can't make out what it says."

"Boost your gain, Lieutenant." Spock said.

"I have, sir. Gain is at maximum."

"Transfer it to the science station, Lieutenant." He rose and moved to his normal station on the bridge. "Mr. Scott, inform Captain Kirk of the receipt of the message, and tell him we are working to capture it." Scott hit a button on the command chair.

"Bridge to Captain Kirk." The open channel spat static at him for a moment, then a familiar voice answered."McCoy here. The Captain is occupied at the moment." He was washing up at the sink in his quarters, having just been on a tour of one of the horticultural labs, where a huge, apparently ill plant had vomited a pollen like substance all over him. He had given McCoy carte blanche to answer any hails until he was finished.

"Dr. McCoy, we just received a message from Starfleet command, on the emergency channel. It was a coded message." Sticking his head out to hear the message, Kirk made eye contact with McCoy, and the meaning was clear.

"The Captain asks, did you apply command ciphers?"

"No. It's too faint. We couldn't pick it up. Uhura boosted her gain as high as it would go. Spock is working on it." Kirk nodded, satisfied that his First officer had a handle on it for now.

"Thank you, Mr. Scott. Keep us posted. McCoy out." McCoy switched off the comm. unit and looked at the Captain—who had just walked out of his cabin's bathroom pulling on a fresh green tunic top as he came—and waited for him to speak. He had called McCoy over from sickbay to talk about Lieutenant Uhura's revelation, and presumably to ask the doctor's opinion on her continued performance, but so far, he had just been beating around the bush, which was unusual for the Captain. If McCoy did not know Kirk better, he would think the Captain was uncomfortable on this unfamiliar ground.

"Captain, let's cut to the chase. You want to know if Lt. Uhura can be trusted to do her job."

"That's exactly what I want to know, Doctor."

"Well, I can give you a better answer as soon as I've examined her, but answer me this, how is she now different than she was yesterday at this time? You trusted her then, didn't you?"

"Yes, but at that time, I did not know that she had what was tantamount to a nervous breakdown. I want to be sure we are not going to be taken by surprise at a bad time. I have to think of the rest of the crew."

"The fact that she has not had a repeat episode since that time leads me to believe that she will be fine. I will make a full report as soon as I have examined her, later on today. I can tell you that she needs to feel your support. When we talked down in sickbay last night, she was afraid that you and Spock might see her differently after hearing her story, and I tried to reassure her. She would be crushed if she thought that were true. She showed you great loyalty, Jim. She needs to feel that you trust her now."

"I will try my best not to see her differently, but if this affects her efficiency, or if there is a chance that it could happen again at the wrong time, I have a responsibility, both to her and the rest of the crew, to relieve her of duty pending the outcome of a full psychiatric evaluation. Why haven't you examined her?"

"She wanted to go to work this morning, and I felt it was the best thing for her. Sometimes, work is a better healer than anything else. I plan to call her down in an hour or so and talk to her about it. She does not need to work a full shift today."

"Understood. Keep me posted, Bones." The comm. channel whistle sounded again at that moment. Kirk toggled the switch to open the channel.

"Kirk here."

"Uhura here, Captain. We have captured the message from Starfleet Command."

"What does it say?"

"It is eyes only, sir, over the emergency channel."

"All right. Pipe it down here, Lieutenant."

The little screen went black for a few seconds, then the blue Starfleet emblem came up, and sat there frozen for a few minutes. Kirk was about to call back up to the bridge to see what was happening, when the emblem was replaced by the face of a rather taciturn looking black man wearing an Admiral's rank on his sleeve. He began speaking but no sound came out of the built in speaker. Finally, the sound caught up to the face, and Kirk heard the gist of the message.

"…Commanding Starbase 12 to Captain James T. Kirk, currently commanding USS Enterprise. This is a warning. Repeat, this is a warning. Medical status upgraded to critical. All non-essential personnel confined to ship under regulations regarding Medical Emergencies. Quarantine conditions currently in effect on planet's surface. Emergency ships in route, requesting vaccination requirement protocols from Chief Medical Officer. Acknowledge." There was a bit of static, and Kirk thought they had lost the connection, but it came back a moment later. "…Commander, Starbase 12 out."

Frowning, the Captain opened a channel to the bridge again, and when Uhura answered, he said, "Lieutenant, acknowledge receipt of the message we just received. Then, call your relief to take your place and join me in my quarters. Ask Mr. Spock to join me also."

"Yes, sir." He heard her voice crack just the slightest bit as he moved to close the channel. Turning to McCoy, he said, "Did you know this Nilbud character?"

Nodding once, McCoy said, "By reputation only. He retired from active service the year before I started my service, and at that time, he was running the entire Starfleet HQ Medical facility, so it wasn't like I could just go up and shake hands with him. His reputation was well established throughout the universe, though."

"And?"

"And what, Jim? He was a class act. A very good albeit very eccentric man. In his lifetime, he had forgotten more than most psychiatrists have ever known about the human psyche. Besides that, he had the trust of every major race within the Federation and beyond. He was a brilliant doctor, and many of his cases are required reading for Academy Medical students

"All right, Doctor. I'll accept your analysis of the man, for now, at least. I want you to examine her. Determine whether she's fit to beam down to the planet with us. We may need her knowledge, both as a linguist, and her previous knowledge of the culture. Bones, I need to know that I am not putting her or anyone else in danger if I take her down there."

"Aye, Captain. You'll have your answers."

(0o0)

'Oh no', Uhura thought. 'Not again.' As she acknowledged the message, she glanced at Spock, so calm and Vulcan cool over at the science station, and for once, she envied him his composure. Looking up as though he sensed she was thinking about him, he met her eyes, and his asked a silent question, and commanded an answer. "Sir, the Captain wants us both in his quarters. I've called Lieutenant Palmer to the bridge." Spock nodded, as the turbolift doors opened and Lieutenant Palmer, assistant Communications Chief, stepped out onto the bridge. Uhura thought Palmer looked at her with sympathy as she took her place, and her insides contracted at the thought that her colleague might know what had happened last night. She rose to give her relief her seat, and found that Spock had moved up next to her.

"Shall we go, Lieutenant?" he asked quietly, those penetrating black eyes reaching way down into her soul as if to find the secrets hidden there. She nodded stiffly, and allowed him to lead her into the turbolift. When the doors had closed, and they were on their way, Spock spoke up. "Lieutenant, am I correct in assuming that you are bothered by the events of last evening—that you somehow see it as a failure on your part?"

"Yes, sir." She wanted to look at the floor between her boots, but something in the Vulcan's gaze held hers and she could not look away.

"I ask you to consider that even Vulcan youth, trained as they are in the benefits of logic, sometimes make decisions that lack judgment. This is not a failure so much as a part of the price we all pay for achieving wisdom."

"Thank you, Mister Spock. That is very kind of you to say." Uhura fully expected Spock to remind her that kindness was a human trait, but he didn't. Unsure whether it was because the turbolift reached their floor and slid to a stop at that moment, or because he was truly being kind to her, and therefore could not logically deny it, she did not know what else to say, so she simply stepped out of the lift behind him and followed him down the hall toward the Captain's quarters.

Kirk rose as they entered, and motioned them both to chairs on the other side of his desk. Dr. McCoy leaned against the wall behind the Captain's desk, looking on at the scene unfolding before him.

"Lieutenant, I have a few more questions for you." She simply nodded, and looked at him, waiting.

"What is the living situation down on the planet?"

"Lugubrians live in underground huts. Most outworlders don't even realize they are dwellings unless they know what to look for."

"What would we look for, Lieutenant?"

"A hole in the ground, fairly small, and almost perfectly round."

"Fascinating," Spock said. "Captain, that suggests a type of creature that is reptilian in nature."

"Confirm, Lieutenant?'

"No, sir. They are not reptilian. They are many things, but not reptilian."

"What are they, then?"

"Humanoid in appearance. Burrowers by nature. They live in large extended family groups. Like rabbits, but again, not. Captain, request permission to join landing party on this mission." Kirk thought for a moment, considering her request. What if it was too early? If all of these memories were too fresh? Then he heard the Doctor's voice in his head. _She needs to feel your trust, too, Captain. _

"Permission granted, Lieutenant, on the provision that McCoy clears you to come after his examination and tests. Cooperate fully with him, Miss Uhura."

"Aye sir."

"Bones?"

"Understood, Jim. Come on Ms. Uhura. Let's go down to sickbay and take a look at you."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Damn it, Jim, our next mission after we finish up at Lugubria was supposed to be three weeks of shore leave. This crew is tired." McCoy paced back and forth in front of the main viewport in the ship's observation deck. They were now only a few hours, half a day at most, from making planet fall on Lugubria. "Now, you are telling me we have new orders, but you can't tell me anything about them. Do you know how long it has been since anyone on this ship has had leave?" Kirk chose to wait until it was as close to time to leave as it could be, while still being acceptable, to tell his Chief Medical Officer of the change in plans, and he was prepared for the fallout.

"Bones, I know. I don't like it either, but Commodore Thavalan's mission changes things. We've been tired before. This is a very professional crew. We'll make it. Don't argue with me."

"I have ship-wide clearance, remember."

"I do, and I also remember that I am under direct orders from a superior officer to say nothing to anyone on the ship except Spock about our orders. You will know soon enough. Now, drop it, Doctor.

"I'm half a mind to open a medical log over your fitness to command."

"On what grounds?"

"On the grounds that your judgement has lapsed enough that you no longer know when to stand up to Starfleet and defend your crew." McCoy roared.

"Bones, I cannot give you the details, but I can assure you that if you knew what we were doing, you would understand."

"Not good enough, Jim."

"Not good enough? What do you mean, not good enough? I am the Captain of this ship. That had better be good enough for anybody aboard." Kirk spoke in a dangerous voice.

"Perhaps you should rest, Captain."

"I don't want to rest. I want to know why my friend and my Chief medical officer no longer trusts me."

"Jim, it is not a matter of trust."

"Oh, no? Then what is the matter?"

"Captain, I am officially opening a medical log entry on your continued fitness to command. I've noticed changes in your behavior and temperament that indicate you are tired and perhaps overstressed. That requires a witness of command grade or higher." He moved toward the comm. unit, planning to ask Spock to step down there. A strong feminine voice stopped him in his tracks.

"I'll be your witness."

"Commodore, what are you doing here?"

"I was not informed that any part of the ship was closed off to me. I came up here to think, and was not expecting to walk into an argument between the ship's Captain and the Chief Medical Officer, especially not in a place as public as this one. Really, gentlemen, don't you think a discussion such as the one you just had would be better held in sickbay or in the Captain's quarters or perhaps a briefing room, rather than a place where all and sundry on the ship might come to observe the stars? Almost makes me think neither of you are fit for your posts.

Still, since no one else is here at the moment, I see no reason that we cannot settle this issue. Doctor, I've noticed that Captain Kirk does not now seem to be the same as the person I've read about in the record tapes. I agree that perhaps he does not need to command right now. As a matter of fact, I think he needs to rest. My suggestion is that he be sent to Star base 12, which is the star base closest to our present location, in order to be spared the embarrassment of having to face others coming into sickbay as patients, or questioning his absence and coming to see him while he is…indisposed. With your permission, I would be happy to accompany him there and stay with him until the Enterprise passes this way again in two weeks. I am perfectly prepared to continue my mission at that time."

"No—"

"I agree that it is probably best he not have to face the crew in his present condition. I would take him myself, but I have, er, other patients needing care, at the moment."

"Bones, don't do this. I beg you."

"I'm sorry Captain, but as your friend and your doctor, I have to do what is best for you."

"I'll make the arrangements. Dr. McCoy, please inform the bridge of the course change. Captain, I am confining you to quarters. Please pack anything you feel you want to take with you, and I will be down there in just a few minutes."

Kirk was seated in his quarters, wondering if his whole crew was under the influence of some strange malady that no one knew anything about, or if they were simply all mad. He wondered for the millionth time about the Commodore's purpose, and the more he wondered, the angrier he became. Whether he was more angry at McCoy or the commodore, he wasn't sure. He was also worried about Spock, and what this would do to the mission.

He reached into the bottom of his closet and got out his Fleet issue duffel bag. Slamming it down on the bed, he yanked open a drawer and pulled out a supply of uniform and casual tops and packed them none too gently into his bag. Slamming that drawer closed and yanking open another, he did the same thing with trousers, socks, and boxers. He added toiletries from his bathroom and his medals, and then zipped the bag and threw it on the floor next to his bed.

He flung himself into the chair behind his desk, and sat glaring at no one in particular and trying to control his anger. Otherwise, it would be his weakness, and they would be within their rights to lock him up. He concentrated on controlling his breathing, but it wasn't helping much. Spock would say that he needed to empty his mind, and McCoy would send him to the gym. Since he couldn't take McCoy's suggestion under present circumstances, he would take Spock's. He sat there trying to empty his mind, and having about as much luck as he'd had trying to control his breathing. He realized with some relief that the time he spent trying had lessened his anger, though, since he had not been concentrating on it. Almost as an afterthought, he said, "Computer?"

"Working"

"Record message for Mr. Spock. File under his voice print and flag his computer. This message is eyes only for Mr. Spock."

"Acknowledged. Begin recording."

"Spock—" Here he paused, unsure of exactly what he wanted to say, but knowing he did not have much time. "Find out everything you can about Commodore Thavalan and how she came to be on my ship. Her story bothers me, and I'd like to be sure she really is here at the behest of Starfleet. Note: Speak to no one of this, except me. I will see you when I get back. Take care of my ship." He paused a moment, as if considering something else, and then said, "End recording."

"Acknowledged. Message filed under voiceprint, Commander Spock. Terminal flagged. Eyes only." He had to admit that that one little action made him feel somewhat better. At least Spock would know he didn't fully trust the Commodore. He turned toward the door, startled, when the chime rang. He pushed the release, and Commodore Thavalan stalked inside. "Commodore," he said tightly, a muscle working in his jaw.

"Captain." She stood regarding him silently for a moment, and almost smiled. Walking over to him, she motioned him to sit on his bunk, and she seated herself in the chair behind his desk, turning it to face him as she did so. "Are you ready to go?"

"I guess so."

"You're angry, Captain. That's honest. I can appreciate that. If you can give me a few minutes of your time, off of the ship, I think you might see things differently." As she spoke, she had her bag open on her lap, rummaging for the materials she needed.

"What does this mean for my mission?" That small smile played around her lips again, but she did not answer. Instead she said, "Lie down on your bunk, Captain. We just have to be sure you are well enough to go." Kirk did as he was told, and she hooked a portable diagnostics panel in to his bunk. When she flipped the switch, it immediately started echoing his heart rate. His vital signs were normal. "Do you feel any pain, Captain?" Looking at her, he knew he couldn't lie to her. Somehow, he felt she would know. And two days wasn't quite long enough for newly regenerated bones to learn to support weight, nor for muscles to get used to carrying that weight again, after not having done so for several days.

"Some," he said.

"Then I will leave it to you. Are you up to this? If you say no right now, I will call in someone else, and give you time to recover."

"No. I can do it. I want to do it. Besides, now that you have my Chief Medical Officer convinced that I am a head case, he will be watching me like a hawk for the rest of the time we serve together, until I convince him otherwise."

"Very well, Captain. You know, Captain, there's someone who wants to see you waiting for you at Starbase 12. An old friend of yours. Let's go." She picked up his duffel bag and handed it to him. They had started out the door when the intercom's whistle rang, and a voice said, "Bridge to Captain Kirk." He recognized the cheerful, vibrant tones of Palmer's voice, and thought about Uhura. He smiled as he pressed the button to answer her.

"Kirk here."

"Captain, I have a message for the Commodore. It's eyes only, sir."

"All right, Lieutenant. Pipe it down here. I was just leaving." He looked at the Andorian woman in front of him. "I will be waiting for you in the hallway. Please come and get me when you are finished." A very strong, blue hand encircled his wrist in a grip like iron, and turned him so that there was no possible way he could see the view screen. He took that to mean she wanted him to stay. A few seconds later, she pushed the button to clear the screen, and turned herself to face Kirk.

"Now, then, Captain. It appears that there has been a change of plans. Bob Wesley was injured this morning, when the Lexington was destroyed in a battle with a band of angry renegades, and he is currently in the critical care unit of the medical facilities at Starbase 7." She fell silent for a moment, as if considering what to say next, and he spoke instead.

"That's horrible. Did the crew escape before the ship was destroyed?"

"Most of them. There were 123 injuries and twenty eight deaths."

"So, who are they bringing in to replace him?" She hesitated, and when she spoke again, there was something different in her voice, something unidentifiable.

"Captain Kirk, each of us comes to a time in his career where he has to choose that which is most important to him. What if I told you that you are in charge of your own destiny as far as this mission is concerned, anyway. Which would you choose, Captain Kirk?"

"I don't understand. You just told me that Spock is safer here."

"You miss my point, Captain. I am not asking you to choose between them. No, this choice is far more important than that."

"I'm afraid I still do not understand."

"Your men or your ship, Captain? Which would you choose?"

"Do I really have a choice?"

"There are always choices, Captain."

"That sounds like something Spock would say."

"Then he is a wise man."

"What exactly are you asking me to choose?"

"To stay here, and command your vessel, while I choose one or two of the men in your crew to accompany me, or to take two men with you and go, and face the possibility that you might not return to your ship, though she will be waiting for you when, and if, you return." Kirk froze. He had not expected that they would give him this choice. He knew that Scotty would go if the Captain was asking, but he was not sure he should ask him. For one thing, the Chief Engineer got antsy if he was kept away from his precious 'bairns' for too long, and for another thing, the ship might need him. His reputation as the man who could defy the laws of physics was growing, and was deserved, despite all of his protests to the contrary.

Then, there was McCoy. He, too, would do his duty, but Kirk knew that he was worried about Spock, and that he would not trust the Vulcan's care to just anyone. Though M'Benga had studied on Vulcan, and had experience with all of the Vulcan physiological quirks, McCoy still preferred, at times, to treat the senior officers personally. Kirk kidded him that it was because he did not want to be left out of the action, but the Captain knew that there was more to it than that. They were like two human siblings, his Chief Medical Officer and his Science officer were, siblings who, as children, would fight like cats and dogs one minute, and then gang up on a common enemy, who had insulted one or the other of them, the next. _Where little fears grow great, great love grows there. Or, perhaps more accurately in their case, great friendship._

There was no question that Spock could command the ship, or assist the Commodore if she needed him, and she was right, there was an extra medical officer aboard, and she must be quite a bit more than good in her own right, or she would never have risen to her position as the Director of Medical Services at Starfleet HQ. As McCoy had pointed out to the Captain on at least one other occasion, promotions were not politically motivated in the Surgeon General's office or Starfleet Medical Headquarters. Feeling mildly selfish for abandoning his crew to her care, he nonetheless felt that his need was the greater one at the moment.

He knew Spock would trust Amanda's care to no one else, if he had the choice, but he also knew that after the scene he pulled this afternoon, he would not be able to get McCoy off the ship without explaining it all to him, and that would be disobeying a direct order from a superior officer. He pulled himself from his reverie to tell the Commodore that he'd made his decision, but she was no longer in the room with him. As if she had looked into his mind, and seen there the decision that he had made, had understood that it was really the only one that would have ever been possible, she was gone.

(0o0)

Uhura was seated in McCoy's private office in the sickbay. He sat down across from her, his blue eyes piercing. "Now then, Lieutenant. We've done the tests the Captain requested. I need you to answer a few more questions for me." She nodded, saying nothing, just wanting all the fuss to be over. "You said that Dave Mitchell was shot in the alien negotiations. Who was the Chief Medical Officer on the ship that picked you up from there? I'd like to ask him for some more information."

"I don't know. I was unconscious when I was taken aboard the ship."

"Explain that, Miss Uhura. Your story to the Captain didn't say anything about your being injured."

"I told him that the blast that killed Lieutenant Mitchell knocked me unconscious."

"You also said that when you woke up, Lieutenant Mitchell was dead, and you seemed to say that you were still on the planet's surface. When were you taken aboard the ship?"

"I don't remember exactly."

"Close your eyes, Lieutenant." She did so, and the Doctor's voice was gentle and soothing as it sounded in her head. "I want you to think back to that day. Picture it in your mind. Tell me exactly what you see."

"We were on Barga 3, and we were shot. When I woke up, I was in sickbay, and Nilbud was tending to me. He asked me what had happened, and I told him the truth. Dave's body was in the next room, being prepared for an autopsy. The Lugubrians were up at arms over the whole affair, calling for my blood because Mitchell was killed and I hadn't fired my weapon, so they considered me to be aiding and abetting the enemy. For my own safety, Nilbud arranged to have me picked up by a friend who was a starship captain. I think he wanted a backup, too, someone else whom he could trust in the Federation, who knew what was going on, and could bear witness if he was killed. I didn't think about that at the time, but it seems reasonable, looking back on it now.

After I was released from my confinement to quarters, Nilbud and I hid out in a tunnel and cave system that runs under Lugubria. The starship picked me up from there, after Nilbud was killed."

"How did Nilbud get out of the cave before he was killed?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said yesterday that he had called you down to sickbay to talk about what he had discovered. That seems to indicate that he didn't die in the cave, as you just suggested. Correct?" A strange expression crossed Uhura's face, and in a horrified whisper, she said, "He did not get out of the cave, they discovered it, held us hostage there for four days, and then blew it wide open with fire from phaser rifles."

"How did they discover it?"

"They found us because Uncle Nilbud had me trying to contact the Starbase to send a ship for us, and they picked up the subspace radio waves of a surface to ship, wide beam connection. They never would have known it had been sent if it had been a narrow beam transmission. He died because of my inexperience." She was past tears at this point, and puzzled by the events she had just recounted. She looked at Doctor McCoy. "I remember him dying in the cave, and I also remember that he disappeared, along with his ground car, after the cave was destroyed. Both are equally real and vivid in my mind, but how can both be true?"

"Perhaps something happened between the time he disappeared and the time he was killed, which you are not remembering yet." He didn't have the heart to tell her that her memory might also be faulty. "I will be calling you back in here. You need to sort all of this out. Right now, though, you must go and get ready to join the landing party, if you plan to go down to the surface with them."

He waited until the door closed behind her, and called the Captain.

"Kirk here. How is Ms. Uhura, Doctor?"

"I want to work with her some more. She seems to have two sets of memories regarding Nilbud's disappearance and death. But the fact that she could talk about all of this again without showing signs of a breakdown is a good sign. It means she's learning to deal with it. I think joining the landing party and facing her demons down there might be good for her. I sent her to her quarters to get ready to go."

"All right, Doctor, but I want you to keep an eye on her while she's down there. If she seems to be under too much stress, send her back to the ship. Don't take chances with her, or the rest of the crew."

"Agreed. When do we reach Lugubria?"

"In about ninety minutes, Doctor."

"You will beam down with the landing party, Captain. You and Dr. Thavalan will slip away from there, and no one else on the ship need know you were relieved. Cooperate with her, and you will be back here before you know it."

Kirk's eyes narrowed, and a muscle worked in his jaw, and McCoy knew he was still angry about what had happened. "We will take this up later, Doctor. Kirk out." The connection went dead, and McCoy swallowed hard, knowing the Captain meant what he said.


	10. Chapter 10

A landing party consisting of Lieutenant Sulu, Lieutenant Uhura, and Dr. McCoy reported to the transporter room to find an armed security team and both Captain Kirk and Dr. Thavalan waiting for them. Commodore Thavalan nodded to the others in the room, and then said crisply, "All right. Mr. Scott, beam us down on my signal. Mr. Spock, you are in command while we are away." The security team, Dr. McCoy, and Lieutenant Uhura climbed onto the transporter platform, and at the Commodore 's signal, they were beamed to the planet's surface. When they were gone, Lieutenant Sulu, Captain Kirk, Commodore Thavalan, and the two security guards accompanying them took their places on the transporter pads, and they soon followed the first party.

On the planet's surface, the Commodore ordered them to split up and scout out their surroundings, since there were no cities or dwellings in the area in which they appeared. They would keep in touch with one another through communicators. Dr. Thavalan motioned for the Captain to follow her, and they moved off in one direction. A security guard moved to accompany them, but Commodore Thavalan said, "It will not be necessary for you to accompany us."

"SOP ma'am."

"I am aware of that, Lieutenant Ryan, but I am quite sure that there is nothing Captain Kirk or I could possibly face, against which we could not defend ourselves. Your time would be better spent keeping watch here, until the others come back."

Lieutenant Ryan started to say something else, and then saw the look on Captain Kirk's face. He wouldn't push back so hard if the Captain had requested the same thing of him, and he knew Kirk was not pleased with the pushback he was giving the Commodore. He acquiesced to the request with poor grace and moved back to do what she asked of him.

Dr. McCoy moved off in the opposite direction, also accompanied by a guard. Sulu and Uhura were both disappearing in different directions. Lieutenant Ryan, along with the other two guards would stand watch in the original beam down site, until the scouts returned. They were gone for thirty minutes, and then started trickling back, one by one.

As she was walking back to the rendezvous point, Thavalan's communicator beeped, and she withdrew it from her belt and flipped it open.

"Thavalan here."

"Commodore, we're picking up readings of a structure three kilometers away. Sensors indicate several life forms, as well as energy readings from some sort of matter-antimatter generators."

"We'll meet you there, Mr. Sulu."

She contacted the other members of the landing party, and they all met Sulu at the rendevous point he had named, and together, they moved toward the structure. After walking for half an hour or so, they came upon the oddest structure they'd ever encountered. At first glance, it seemed to be nothing more than a pit in the ground. Upon closer examination, they discovered that the structure seemed to be a cavern under the ground, and the pit was actually the entrance.

"Opinions on how we would enter this structure? Anyone?"

"Jump?" McCoy said, with a trace of sarcasm. "Dee, are you sure it is a good idea to even attempt to enter without an invitation. These people don't know us. Shouldn't we at least announce ourselves first?"

Just at that moment, the edge of the cliff where Dr. Thavalan was standing gave way, and she half stumbled half slid to the bottom of the incline. Dr. Thavalan hit hard and lay still, as though stunned, for a long moment. Doctor McCoy immediately ordered everyone else away from the edge of the pit, and he began trying to figure out how to get to Dr. Thavalan.

Dr. Thavalan rolled over and sat up gingerly, testing to be sure that nothing was broken. Seeing that McCoy was trying to find a way to her, she said, "Don't come any closer. I don't want anyone else falling down here. Lower down a rope and harness from the supplies, and I will climb back up. Someone will need to belay for me."

"All right. Stand back." She did so, and a moment later the gear she had requested came sailing over the side of the rock face. She quickly buckled herself into the harness, and hooked herself up to the belay rope. When they signaled that someone was on belay above, she began to climb. It was not the easiest climb she had ever made, and it should not have been as hard as it was, but after a myriad of bumps and bruises and a few lines of Andorian expletive, she hauled herself back over the side and sank with some relief onto the ground. Looking around, she realized their party was not complete.

"Where's Uhura?" she started to ask, but darkness rose up to meet her and claimed her before she finished the question.

(0o0)

McCoy had made the preliminary arrangements on the planet, and had come back up to the ship to see Dr. Thavalan safely to sickbay. He ordered an extra cleaning crew in sickbay while he was there, in anticipation of further inspections. Now, he was taking his time gathering materials that his doctors and nurses might need while they were there. Physicals had already been started on as many of the people as they could see at one time, and treatments were proceeding according to schedule. His responsibility was there, but he also had to be sure that the Commodore received the care she needed, and since she had forbidden him to tell anyone else on the medical staff about her illness, he also had to be here, at least some of the time. He told himself that he was being thorough in gathering equipment his doctors and nurses might need on the planet's surface, but in reality, he was dragging his feet going back down. Plans had changed at the last minute, and Kirk was in a holding cell on the planet, until Dee could arrange transport to Starbase 12. The epidemic had reached a critical stage and they could not afford the time to divert to the starbase with Kirk. He was worried that Kirk would see his actions on the observation deck as a betrayal, if he ever decided to speak to the doctor again, and in a way, McCoy wouldn't blame him if he didn't. He knew if someone had done to him what he and Dee did to the Captain, he would be livid, and he really could not hold it against Kirk if it were the same with him. Nurse Chapel found him in his office, muttering to himself as he ordered an extra cleaning crew in sickbay. He wondered if what he was thinking showed on his face, and then decided it probably did. He wasn't very good at hiding things like that. "Lieutenant Palmer on the com link, sir. I think it is regarding a member of the crew." Toggling the switch to open the channel, she looked at him with a touch of sympathy, and then backed out of his office, allowing the doors to whoosh closed behind her. Glaring at the com link as though he'd like to grind it into a fine powder and pour it out of the nearest air lock, he growled, "Yes, Lieutenant Palmer, what is it?"

"It's the hospital at the spaceport on Argelius, Doctor. Since they are the nearest planet to Lugubria with Starfleet medical personnel on staff, they are coordinating care efforts for the entire quadrant. They are asking to speak to the Chief Medical Officer."

"I'm kind of busy at the moment, Lieutenant."

"I think it is regarding the vaccine, sir."

Sighing deeply, McCoy said, "Pipe it down here, Lieutenant. I'll take it in my private office."

"Aye, sir." As he touched the switch, the view screen came to life, and he was greeted by a very stern looking man, who looked vaguely familiar somehow.

"Dr. McCoy, I have your recommendation here for the vaccine, but there are some variables that have changed, and I think we need to discuss it in person." _Uh oh. That could mean trouble, for all of us, since it might mean that the members of the crew on the planet's surface have not received a vaccine sufficient to combat the illness. _He took a deep breath in an attempt to stay calm. "Please bring your medical ready kit and beam over." That was a thinly veiled order, but McCoy recognized an order when he heard one, and so, he reluctantly agreed. "We'll be expecting you, Doctor." McCoy made his way to the bridge to let whomever had the conn know that he was beaming down.

When he told Scotty what had happened, the Engineer immediately rose and said, "I'm going with ye, Doctor. I received a message from the Port's Engineering Chief, Red McClellan. He needs to install some replacement parts for the Medical Computers and needs to make a couple of new pieces of equipment, and wants to discuss their installation with me. We were at school together, or dinna ye ken." Dr. McCoy shook his head. He hadn't known. Looking toward the helm, Scotty spoke. "Mr. Sulu, you have the conn. I'll be back shortly." Following McCoy into the turbolift, Scotty noticed that the doctor was much more subdued than usual. "Something wrong, Doctor?"

"Nothing I can't handle, Scotty. Disgruntled patient, maybe." Together, they stepped out of the lift and walked into the transporter room, stepped up onto a pad, and McCoy signaled the transporter operator to beam them down.

Scott and McCoy were met in the transporter room by armed guards. "This base is in medical quarantine status. No personnel on or off without authority, valid business, and an escort. State your name, rank, and the business that gives you authority to be on this base."

"Lieutenant Commander Leonard McCoy, M.D., Chief Medical Officer, USS Enterprise. I've come to discuss your epidemic with Commander Kendall, in the medical offices, at his request."

"Right this way, Doctor." Two of the guards peeled off on either side of him, making it clear that they intended to accompany him to the meeting. As he walked away, he heard another of the guards ask the same thing of Scott, and he heard the thick, familiar burr, as the Chief Engineer answered him. As they rounded a corner, he heard the Engineer's footfalls heading in the other direction, and by the sound of it, he was also being escorted. McCoy was not that familiar with Star Base 12, since he'd only been there once before, as it was a bit outside of the normal patrol sector of the Enterprise. Their last mission had pulled them pretty far outside it, though, and the Enterprise had to pass the base as she headed back home.

Still, unfamiliar base or no, he thought he'd recognize a hospital when he saw one. So, it came as a surprise to him when his guards stopped in front of a set of double doors, and one of them said, "Here we are, sir. Just walk right through those doors, and Dr. Kendall's office is at the end of the hall." He walked down the long corridor, and sounded the door buzzer when he got to the office. A stern voice said, "Come", and he went, then stopped in his tracks as he realized where he was. Far from the star base medical wing, McCoy found himself in a shuttle craft, and a fairly fancy one at that. "Did you bring your medical ready pack with you?" Kirk asked, very quietly.

"Aye, Captain," he said, as he turned and came face to face with two intense hazel eyes, every bit as angry as he had expected Jim Kirk to be. "What's goi—?"

"Later. Take your seat, Doctor. Prepare for takeoff." McCoy opened his mouth to say something else, and Kirk interrupted. "We're waiting for one more. I cannot explain any more until we are en route, but you will understand soon enough. Now, do as I say." In that phrase, the Doctor heard the tone of voice with which he knew better than to argue. He sat down, slightly confused at what was taking place. He began checking his kit, and going through the pre-flight checklist that was standard operating procedure for Starfleet Medical personnel on landing party duty, looking for any potential safety hazards that could make the craft perilous for her crew. When he was halfway finished, the doors slid open once again, and Scotty came sliding roughly inside, while the doors slid shut behind him.

As the big engineer regained his footing, he saw Dr. McCoy seated in the first row of seats in what he now recognized as the newest model of shuttlecraft available to the Federation. It was a craft of Vulcan design, if he was not mistaken. "Mr. Scott, good of you to join us. Please prepare for takeoff. I will explain more when we are en route." Scott quickly began to run through the Engineering protocols, preparing the ship for takeoff, while McCoy finished the medical protocols and began the ones for general science, and Kirk worked on those for navigation and helm.

"Ready, gentlemen?"

"Aye, Captain. All systems go." McCoy didn't answer, but he didn't need to because Scott had just answered for him. All systems go meant that all systems on the ship were prepared for takeoff.

"Good, Mr. Scott. Please monitor communications while I take us out of Space Dock. Doctor, please monitor the science station." He looked through what he'd come to know, in other crafts, as Spock's viewer, and watched as the small ship glided effortlessly into the deep, fathomless darkness of space. When they were finally far enough from the dock that the Captain could set the ship's controls on auto pilot, he turned to the two men seated near him.

"Mr. Scott, are we rigged for silent running?" Scott knew what the Captain was really asking. Were they far enough from space dock not to be overheard via subspace radio?

"Aye, sir, and there are no other ships for three parsecs in any direction."

"Good. My apologies for the secrecy, gentlemen, but we have just embarked on a top secret mission to recover the Lady Amanda of Vulcan, who was kidnapped three standard days ago from the garden outside of her home. Our orders are to recover her, then reunite with the Enterprise, where we will meet up with Sarek, and the Enterprise will see that they arrive safely at a conference before the Federation council, where Sarek must give important evidence. We will then escort them back to Vulcan. We have reason to believe that there is a spy aboard the Enterprise, therefore, I could not risk discussion of this mission within the confines of the ship. We are five or six hours from the starting point for our mission, so I suggest we all relax and enjoy the ride. Before we do so, I believe the doctor and I have some unfinished business. Mr. Scott, if you would be so kind." He smiled a wolfish smile, and vacated the navigator's seat. Scott beamed with pleasure. It was a rare treat for him to get to put his piloting skills to the test, and when all was said and done, he was almost as fair a helmsman as he was an engineer, and that was saying something.

_Uh oh. Here it comes, _McCoy thought to himself, bracing for the worst dressing down he had ever gotten, and thinking as he did so, _Well, it is no more than I deserve. _Kirk moved back one row and sat down next to McCoy. In a voice scarcely more than a whisper, he asked, "Do you care to explain your actions up on the Observation deck this afternoon, Doctor?" McCoy hung his head, but said nothing. "Your actions could be considered mutiny, Doctor, not to mention the penalty for misuse of the Medical Log. I would suggest you answer me." The Captain certainly wasn't making this any easier for him, but he forced himself to look his Captain in the eye.

"I-I Oh, hell, Jim. I gambled and I lost, and I'm sorry. I will understand any disciplinary measures you find necessary."

"Do I take that to mean you really had no intention of having your Captain committed?" McCoy paused, not wanting to admit his bluff, in the event that he needed to use it at some time in the future. But, there was hiding the truth, and then there was hiding the truth from Captain Kirk. He didn't think the latter was possible.

Mister Scott was not really comfortable hearing the discussion taking place behind him. Apparently, Doctor McCoy had done something to get himself into Dutch with Captain Kirk, and that was a place no one wanted to be. So, he concentrated on flying the shuttle, and tried to ignore what was going on behind him.

"Well, Doctor?" Looking Kirk in the eye this time, he thought he saw a hint of amusement behind the intensity of that hazel stare, and that just served to make him angry.

"Damn it, Jim. You know good and well why I did it. You were being deliberately pushy, and your actions were questionable. I felt you needed to explain them. How was I supposed to know the Commodore would walk in and I would have to make good on the threat or risk having us both shipped off to the mines at Mireh Kesh?"

"You got me, Bones." The Captain knew he would regret his next statement, but he made it anyway, needing McCoy to understand. "I was being deliberately uncooperative and pushy, trying to make you ground me, so there would be no questions when we left the ship together. The Commodore pulled the proverbial rug out from under that plan. Kirk smiled his charm-the-birds-from-the-trees smile. It was that smile that made it difficult for the people in Kirk's command to stay angry at their Captain for any amount of time, and the smile that made women the galaxy over willing to do just about anything for James Kirk. McCoy shook his head and smiled, wondering for a moment if that smile would work on the Commodore. He decided it probably wouldn't work on the Commodore he knew.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 10

Kirk was seated next to McCoy, in the first row of shuttlecraft seats behind the pilot's console. Scott was enjoying flying so much that Kirk did not have the heart to take back the controls. Suddenly realizing that he did not understand how the Captain had pulled all of this off, McCoy gave his friend a sidelong glance.

"How did you manage this?"

"What, Bones?"

"Getting the Chief Medical Officer from the base to order me off the ship."

"Did he tell you he was the Chief Medical Officer?"

"No, not exactly, but Lt. Palmer had told me he was from the hospital. Why?"

"Admiral J.G. Kendall is an old ship mate of my father's. He's no more a doctor than I am. He is the commander of the Argelian Space Port's Starfleet personnel, though." Kirk gave McCoy an amused look. McCoy did not return it.

"How did you get the Commodore off your back?"

"Let's just say that circumstances changed sufficiently to make her see things my way." Suddenly, the big engineer turned to the two men behind him and said, "Captain, we're being pursued. Ship approaching at three four seven mark four two."

"On screen, maximum magnification."

"On screen, Captain." The three men stared at the screen. A small ship of unfamiliar design sailed in off of their port flank, circled around in front of them, and hung there in space, for just a moment, locked in a faceoff with the shuttlecraft.

"Ship is scanning us now, sir."

"Let's return the favor, Mr. Scott."

"Aye, sir." As they started to scan the other ship, a bright spot of light bounded away from the other ship and moved right into their path.

"They're firing on us, sir."

"Evasive maneuvers, Mr. Scott. Readying phasers." A moment later, he spoke again. "Phasers away." The three men watched as they made contact with the other ship, and Scotty took advantage of their opponent's distraction to throw the small shuttle to warp 7, and they shot off and away, leaving the other ship far behind them. Sighing inwardly with relief, Kirk sat back in his chair. "That was a nice bit of flying, Mr. Scott."

"Thank ye, sir."

"Why don't you move back to the back and get some sleep? We've got a long trip ahead of us. We will take turns sleeping, so we will all be ready when we arrive."

"If it's all the same to ye, Cap'n, I'd rather not sleep right now."

"Why not, Mr. Scott? You must be tired."

"Aye, but still I don't want to sleep. I'd rather not talk about why." Now, McCoy was looking at him appraisingly. Wincing slightly, and being sure to keep his back to the doctor, he spoke again. "Cap'n, I have a good reason. Please don't ask me any more about it."

"All right, Scotty. If you don't want to talk about it, that's your prerogative. It's my prerogative and my responsibility to ensure the safety of my crew, and for that reason, I am ordering you to get some sleep. Now, are you going back to lie down on your own, or do I need to ask McCoy to be sure that you are following orders?"

"I can go by meself, Cap'n."

"Good. Sleep well, Mr. Scott."

_The night is indigo dark and the fog lays thick and low over the land. A chill, clammy mist rises from the water and mingles with the fog. Sounds are muted, distorted, strange. Voices float through the night air, but one cannot actually say which direction they come from. In short, it is the kind of night that makes one believe in ghosties and other beings of the shadows. Scotty shivers, and smiles as he realizes how long it has been since he's felt that kind of chill. 'Tis like being home. Home. Scotland. When he was just a lad, his friends would laughingly wonder which of his two ladies would ultimately win his affection, the Enterprise or Scotland. Though it was close, in the end, the Enterprise won. Still he found himself looking for a bit of Scotland wherever he went, and in all the places he visited in his travels through the universe, he usually found something that reminded him of that other lady he loved, the mistress he'd left behind. Tonight it was the fog, and the stillness, and the chill mist that rose over the water. 'Tis the kind of night the spirits will be haintin'. In his mind's eye, he saw other foggy nights, spent with other pretty girls. Their faces and some of their names were obscured in the passage of too much time, in landfall on too many worlds. There were a very few who were special, but they too had eventually realized that that which called him to go was stronger than that which bound him to stay, and so, they had released him. He regretted that as he regretted few other things in the world, but he comforted himself with the knowledge that they had known what he was when they got involved, and so there was no broken trust, no bright vision shattered. He stumbled, and reflexively reached back to catch the girl and steady her so she wouldn't fall. _

_An eldritch twilight descended upon the land, and a chill that had nothing to do with the mist ran up and down his spine, playing about his arms and face, and raising the small hairs on the back of his neck. He sensed a thinning, though he felt nothing. Somehow, he knew, could tell that he was in the presence of ultimate evil, though how he knew that, he could not quite say. Reaching, stretching, searching, he tried to find the girl, to shield her with his body, to get her safe away, but he found himself quite unable to move. A darkness more profound than any he had ever known crept in upon his vision, and a suffocating silence strangled the girl's cry. For a long time, he knew nothing but the darkness and the silence, could not focus his thoughts on anything, until finally, his mind latched on to the one familiarity of the scene, a snatch of sound that somehow found its way through that abysmal gulf. His name, and the voice that called it, were a welcome anchor to reality. He threw himself toward the voice with all the strength that he possessed, somehow understanding that that direction was to be his salvation. _

Lieutenant Commander Scott sat up and found himself drenched in sweat. Rising shakily from his makeshift bunk, he went into the shuttle's bathroom and splashed water on his face, and when that did not help, leaned over and wretched into the sonic lavatory. Six months had passed since the ordeal on Argelius had taken place, so why was he having nightmares about it now? Eyeing the back seats with loathing, and knowing he would not sleep again for a long, long time, he sat up and busied himself with some schematics of the ship's design, trying to avoid questions he did not want to answer from people he did not want to see at the moment.

(0o0)

Sulu lay stretched out on his bunk, boots set neatly on the floor below. Checkov sat in Sulu's desk chair, staring glumly at nothing in particular. His anger built and built as he thought of Uhura down on the planet, possibly injured and alone.

"Look at the bright side, Pavel. We found her. When Captain Kirk gets back, he'll decide what he wants to do, but at least she's alive and safe."

"For now, yes. How long will it stay that way?"

"You know better than that, Pavel. There are no guarantees. You stay in the service long enough, and you learn not to count on tomorrow. You have to learn to live today, and worry about what happens after that when that time is granted to you."

"Why wouldn't the Commodore demand her back? She could have you know. They have no legal right to hold her."

"We don't know that. Maybe she did something that violated one of their taboos. After all, we know very little about these people. Or maybe someone found her injured, and she is in a hospital down there, in which case, M'Benga will surely find her and bring her back here. The fact is, Pavel, that we really don't know what has happened, and until we do, the Commodore is right not to go barging in demanding her return. Yes, we've come to help these people, but we have a responsibility to be culturally sensitive also. Do you think Captain Kirk would not hand over one of his crew to be tried, convicted, and even killed if that crew member had violated some local law? Look at Mr. Scott and Argelius. If you plan to stay in the service, you need to learn now that you have to do your duty, and friendship doesn't, and can't, enter into it. You can't let it get in the way of what you have to do. Thinking anything else is just being naïve. The sooner you learn that, the better off you will be."

Those words stung Chekov deeply. It was rare that he was at odds with his Asian friend, and even rarer that Sulu spoke to him in this manner. They were both out of sorts tonight. Uhura was a friend to both of them, and neither liked what was happening. _In fact, _thought Sulu_, Chekov would be surprised how much I want to go check on her myself, _but he'd been in the service longer than that. Long enough to know better, as Kirk would say. Long enough to know that going down there might do more harm than good.

"Captain Kirk also fought to clear Mr. Scott, and didn't stop until he was released. You do what you want to do, but Uhura is my friend, and I'm going down there to check on her. If the Commodore won't do anything, I will."

"Don't be stupid. What makes you think I wouldn't pick up the comm. unit before you even left the room and call the Commodore or Mr. Spock? They'd have security on you before you got near the transporter room. I'm your friend, and Uhura's, but I am also a superior officer, and I can order you not to go."

"Or you could come with me. Uhura is your friend, too, and I can't stand the thought of her down there all alone. Do what you have to do, sir. I'm going."

Later, Sulu decided that it must have been the 'sir' that made him change his mind, and go along with the Russian navigator. "I don't know why I let you talk me into these things. Come on. If we are going to do this, we have to move carefully. It will show up on the bridge Engineering panel when we beam down."

They reached the transporter room too easily for Sulu's tastes. At a time when the corridors should be crawling with crewmen, they were virtually deserted. That seemed a bad omen to him. They entered the room to find it seemingly deserted. So far, so good. Their luck was not to last, however. As Sulu was programming their coordinates into the transporter, and setting the delay, so he could pull the lever and then climb on the platform, the person by whom they most dreaded being seen, stepped into the room.

"Going somewhere, gentlemen?" Spock asked casually, stepping over to the machine and changing the programming.

"Yes, sir." Sulu stared at the floor and Chekov looked contrite. "Sorry, sir."

"I think I understand what you were trying to do, gentlemen, and I sympathize with the reasons you would want to do it, but it's a bad idea. It won't help Miss Uhura, it won't help the situation, and it especially won't help your careers. Now, I am going to step out into the corridor for precisely five seconds, and if you are out of this room and headed back to your quarters within that time, we'll forget anything happened here tonight. If, however, you choose to transport anyway, I think it is only fair to warn you that the transporter is now programmed to deposit you in the brig, where you will stay until Captain Kirk comes back or Commodore Thavalan decides to handle the issue. Clear?"

"Yes, sir."

(0o0)

McCoy was out of his seat and by Scott's side in an instant. The engineer was a delicate shade of green, and his eyes were red and puffy, almost like he had a hangover, but by his speech they could tell that he was cold sober. The Captain stared at him in alarm. "Scotty, what is it? You look awful."

"Nothin to warry about, sir."

"I'll be the judge of that when you tell me what's going on here."

"Nightmares, sir." The big Scotsman looked sheepish.

"Those must have been some nightmares, Scotty."

"Aye sir, thot they were." McCoy handed him a glass of water and instructed him to drink all of it. When he had done so, the doctor faced the Chief Engineer and looked appraisingly at him.

"Scotty, tell me about these nightmares."

"I'd rather not, Dr. McCoy. Talking aboot them makes them the more real."

"Would this have anything to do with the Argelius affair?" Scott looked at McCoy in alarm.

"How did ye ken thot, mon?"

"Lucky guess, Mr. Scott. Now spill." More gently he added, "Scotty, I can't help if you don't tell me what's going on in there." Scott glanced at Kirk, who had walked back to see what was happening, and swallowed hard. Taking the hint, Kirk turned back toward the front of the shuttlecraft.

"I'll leave you two to it. I will be up front if you need me. Scott, let McCoy help you. I need you back."

"Aye sir. Thank ye sir." Scott watched as the Captain's shadow moved back around the corner and into the pilot's seat again.

"All right, Mr. Scott, we are alone. Now, let's get down to business."

"The dreams start out pleasant at first. I am walking in the fog, thinking about other walks in the fog with a likely lass, and then I start to fall, so I reach for the girl, to help her over the rough patch, ye understand, and then I start to feel really cold and I am engulfed in darkness, in evil. I know it is evil, but I don't know why. I can't move, until I hear a voice calling my name—his voice." He looked at the chair the Captain had just vacated. "I move toward his voice, knowing it's all over, and then I wake up, usually sweating like a pig at a barbeque, but cold, so cold, at the same time."

"How long have you been having these nightmares, Scott?"

"I guess it would be four nights now, or five."

"Are they always the same, or are there some that are different?"

"They've all been the same, so far. This last one was far worse, though."

"How do you mean?"

"I woke up in a cold sweat, as usual. Then, I saw an image of those three puir women, just for a split second, as it flashed through me head. I suddenly came face to face with the fact that I killed them. Guess I hadn't really thought about thot before."

"Scotty, it wasn't your fault." McCoy spoke carefully, knowing he was on dangerous ground.

"No matter what the circumstances were, I struck the blows, with me own hands. I did thot." The big engineer wasn't prone to hysterics, but from long experience with other cases, McCoy could tell that the strain in his voice was bordering on panic.

"Mr. Scott, I want you to get some sleep. You won't be on your feet much longer if you don't." McCoy laid a gentle hand on Scott's shoulder. Then, he reached into his ready pack behind him and took out two containers, and two glasses. Opening the front pocket, he withdrew a small paper pouch, ripped the top off of it, and emptied its contents into one glass, pouring Scotch, the engineer's drink of choice, on top of the powder. He poured himself a brandy, and held up his glass in a toast.

"Here's to a good night's sleep, my friend."

"Aye, and a better day tomorrow." With that, Scott downed the contents of his glass, and McCoy helped him stretch out across the middle seats of the shuttlecraft. He was asleep almost immediately.

(0o0)

"Bones, how's Mr. Scott?"

"I wish I knew, Jim." He waved away the worried look on Kirk's face. "He's sleeping for the moment. We'll have a lot more work to do when he wakes up, but sleep was the first priority."

"Scott's not prone to nightmares."

"The mind is a funny thing, Jim. Something about that affair on Argelius really stuck with Scotty. I've seen it before in trauma cases. He's blaming himself for the deaths of those three women."

"After six months? He did not blame himself before."

"Oh, I'm sure somewhere deep down inside, he did blame himself. Up until this point, however, he was able to hide it, and he knew that he wasn't being rational. Something, probably a lack of sleep, changed all of that."

"Why now?"

"I don't know, Jim."

(0o0)

Spock finally reached the relative comfort of his own quarters, and sat down, quite carefully, in the chair behind his desk, pulling his Vulcan lyre from the wall as he did so. He tuned it, not aimlessly, but quite involved in his own thoughts. Vulcans could seldom be regarded as restless, except during the tribulations of Pon Farr, but any objective human would regard Spock as restless right then. As he tuned the instrument, he noticed the message light beeping on his communications unit. Laying the lyre aside, he toggled the switch to play the message, and leaned forward, oblivious to the fact that he had done so, upon hearing the Captain's voice. When the message ended, he switched it off, and then called up the ship's computer.

"Computer?"

"Working," droned the feminine voice.

"Access personnel file for Commodore Dar Thavalan."

"Security level insufficient. Access denied." Spock's frustration would have been evident to anyone who really knew him, and though there was no reason to try to hide it while alone in his quarters, he did so anyway. He would be talking to the upper echelons of Starfleet Command in a few moments, and he did not wish to slip with them.

"Access public records regarding Commodore Dar Thavalan."  
"Specify."

"Current assignment."

"Current assignment: Director of Medical Services, Surgeon General's Office, Starfleet Medical Headquarters, Starfleet Command."

"Recent missions."

"No available data." Spock raised an eyebrow. Interesting.

Spock opened a channel, and when Lieutenant Palmer answered, he said, "Lieutenant, please patch me through to Starfleet Medical Headquarters. I wish to speak to the ranking duty officer."

"Yes, sir." The screen sat frozen on the blue Starfleet emblem for a few minutes, and then the lined face of a Middle Aged black man appeared on the screen.

"Starfleet Medical, Admiral Miller here."

"Admiral Miller, this is Commander Spock, Executive officer, USS Enterprise."

"Mister Spock, how can I help you?"

"Commodore Dar Thavalan is aboard the Enterprise. We received no word that she was coming aboard."

"Well, Mister Spock, I am sure you can understand that the nature of the Commodore's mission made it necessary for her to explain for herself why she was there, once she came aboard."

"Were you aware that the Commodore is—," Spock paused, uncomfortable with sharing something which Doctor Thavalan might wish to remain confidential, and quickly realizing that he had no choice, "ill?"

"No, but it makes no difference. Commodore Thavalan is uniquely qualified to complete her mission, the details of which are top secret and confidential. She is a flag officer on a mission duly authorized by Starfleet. As I understand it, the Enterprise has a top flight medical department, so any illness she has should not cause any real problems. Let me be clear, Commander. The Enterprise is hereby ordered to render all aid and assistance to Doctor Thavalan in the completion of her mission. You and your crew are to follow her instructions to the letter. Do I make myself clear?"

"Quite clear, Admiral."

"You have your orders. Starfleet out." Spock sat back in his chair, deep in contemplation of what the Admiral said. A moment later, Spock left his quarters and moved down to the shuttle bay. Anyone passing him in the corridors of the great ship would have said that their Vulcan First Officer was decidedly preoccupied.

He climbed on board the Galileo, and began tinkering with the controls, making adjustments to the computers, and performing maintenance checks on the engines and other operational parts of the craft, seemingly arguing a point with himself all the while. His thoughts were interrupted by a noise in the back of the vessel, then a very loud silence. Carefully, and completely silently, he made his way back to the back of the shuttlecraft, sneaking up behind a dark clad, heavyset, and very familiar figure as he did so. Reaching out, he put a hand on the man's shoulder and swung him around, seeing the brief, startled look in his captive's eyes, and then the acceptance and the recognition.

"Father, what are you doing here?"

"I must speak to you."

"How did you know I would be here? I told no one."

"That, my son, was a fortunate coincidence. We must recover your mother."

"That is not logical. Starfleet Command has ordered the Enterprise to get you to Touchstone II for important testimony. All else must wait until our mission has been accomplished."

"My testimony will mean nothing without evidence in your mother's possession. Without that evidence, what I say cannot be proved. We must move quickly. Time draws short."

"What evidence?"

"I cannot speak of that. I tucked it among your mother's things. Logically, it should have been safe there."

"Besides the concern of not following orders and the knowledge that I would be betraying my captain and my duty, I cannot leave this ship bereft of command personnel."

"The Commodore, from what I saw of her file, is quite a good commander."

"You saw her file?"

"Not everything is as it seems, my son."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Only that whether she is ill or not, she can still command this ship, and her illness does not relieve you of your duty to the mission, or to me."

"I know, but I have a duty to this ship and her crew as well."

"Retrieving the evidence I need to lend my charges power is the only logical course of action open to you. Under Starfleet regulations, I can use my diplomatic standing to take command of this vessel, and then I can order you to accompany me. If I am forced to do it that way, I will."

Without another word, Spock sat down in the pilot's seat and started on the pre-flight checklists, and then he called Lieutenant Sulu and ordered him to take command of the Enterprise.

"Will you have your communicator, sir?" Sulu asked, quietly.

"Yes, but I may be out of range. The Commodore can command the ship if you have problems. She is a fine commander. Listen to her as you would to Captain Kirk, or to myself."

"Yes, sir." Spock noticed that he still sounded worried.

"Lieutenant, you are a fine commander in your own right. Just remember what you have learned from Captain Kirk, and you will be fine." That was high praise coming from Mr. Spock.

"Thank you, sir." He hesitated for a moment, as if unsure he should say anything more. Finally, he said, "Godspeed."

"I believe the appropriate answer is 'Thank you', Lieutenant."

The shuttle bay doors opened at that time, and Spock steered the shuttle craft _Armstrong_ out into the deep, velvety darkness of space.

Deep in the bowels of the Enterprise, in the heart of crew country, a red light flashed urgently on a desk computer monitor. The cabin's occupant pressed a button and smiled as the voices came through clearly. Two of the Vulcans were leaving. The plan was working far better than they'd hoped, for it was the two important ones who were leaving. They would be alone and vulnerable out in the depths of space. Quickly clicking off the desk monitor before any of those goody two shoes on the bridge had a chance to discover it and inform their commander, the crew member turned and began pushing buttons on a handheld device removed from a uniform pocket, sending a code to comrades outside the ship.

The shuttlecraft Armstrong had been traveling at maximum warp for the past twelve hours. Sarek was lost in private meditation, and Spock found himself concentrating extremely hard on flying the craft. He did not want to think about what Kirk would say when he discovered that the Vulcan had broken his sacred trust. Somehow, Spock knew the reasons would not matter, and deep down inside himself, in the only place he allowed his emotions true vent, he admitted to himself that his friendship with Kirk was a part of his life that could do without logic. Kirk's ship was an extension of himself, his first and best destiny. Abandoning the Enterprise felt very much like abandoning Kirk. He forced himself to concentrate on the charts beside him. This was necessary. He was acting in the only logical manner open to him, and to think that Kirk would not understand that, was giving him less credit than he deserved.

(0o0)

The tiny ship followed the shuttlecraft at the very edge of her sensor range, trying very hard to appear to be a sensor ghost. They would be meeting up with some reinforcements when the shuttlecraft reached its destination. Their job was simply to be sure the bigger ship got to them without veering off to any other location, and to be sure that it did not have reinforcements of its own. Their informant on the parent ship had let them know that that ship was busy with some problems of its own, and that the Commanding officer on that ship did not know that the shuttlecraft was gone, and therefore would not be following them. The green man smiled in satisfaction. This would be easier than he had first thought.

(0o0)

When he opened his eyes the first time, the room was spinning so hard that he could not tell where he was. He took a firm grip on the chair he was lying on to keep from falling off. He felt something pinch his arm, and a familiar gravelly voice said his name several times, though the sound was muted and he could barely hear it. Someone started gently slapping his cheek, and when he opened his eyes the second time, the spinning had stopped, and two faces gazed down at him from above.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Scott?"

"I'm fine, sir, now that the room has stopped spinning. What happened?"

"That's what I hoped to find out from you."

"I don't know. I remember you saying you wanted me to sleep, and pouring me a Scotch, and then I must have gone to sleep because the stuff of every nightmare I've ever had came pouring out at me, and I couldn't wake meself up." Kirk caught the look on McCoy's face, though it was not meant for public consumption, and put a hand on his shoulder, preparing to draw him away, but McCoy spoke again first. "That powder was supposed to ensure a dreamless sleep, Scott. You should not have been dreaming at all, much less having nightmares." He started to fill a hypospray, and Scott looked at him somewhat sheepishly. "If it's all the same to ye, Doctor McCoy, I'd rather not sleep right now."

McCoy regarded him for a moment, and then said, "I don't blame you, Mr. Scott, but you cannot stay awake forever. It'll catch up to you sooner or later."

"I can try."

"I'm afraid not, Scotty. It's just a matter of giving you something that will keep the dreams away. I think this will do it." He injected the engineer with the contents of the hypo.

(0o0)

They were twenty two minutes eta from the ship they were pursuing. She was on their sensors. Sarek stared at the readings on the control panel in front of him, seemingly lost in his private meditations, but he was actually watching the man next to him. His cool Vulcan calm, the precise and deliberate actions he took while flying the craft, his loyalty to duty and kinship, the natural fascination that some mistook for emotion, which made him one of the best scientists that Sarek had ever known—all these things made him proud in a way he was not even comfortable admitting to himself. He wondered if Spock knew he felt that way. He could not tell him—that was not permitted, but he wanted to think that he understood, somewhere deep inside, especially after the encounter last year that brought them closer than they had been for eighteen years. Amanda had had a part in that. She only wanted to see them grow close, as a father and son should, in her opinion. Sarek opened his mouth to voice some of what he was thinking, since they were alone, but Spock spoke first.

"Father, we are being pursued." As he spoke, he raised the shuttlecraft's shields, and then reached over and flipped a switch to increase the magnification on the aft view screen.

"Explain."

"A ship of unknown origin is in pursuit of this vessel. You should move to the back and brace yourself. We may take some fire."

"That's not logical. I can brace myself as well here as I could back there, and you might need assistance with the instruments."

"As you wish, Ambassador." Spock's voice had grown oddly formal.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N:** Thank you to all of you who are reading and following this story. A special thank you to those who take the time to review. Reviews make my day, so please keep them coming. Before I forget, I don't own Star Trek and I don't write for any type of profit. Original characters and situations are mine. Enjoy, and thanks again for reading.**

Chapter 12

Mr. Scott was in the pilot's seat again, while the Captain had moved back to the back of the shuttle to sleep. McCoy was seated in the co-pilot's seat next to Scott, and Scotty was trying to ignore the fact that he was there. They had been in flight for twenty hours, and after he had awakened, McCoy had slept for awhile, and now it was the Captain's turn. Dr. McCoy was better than the Captain. Scott felt so awkward around Kirk after his nightmares that he barely said two words, except to answer tactical or engineering questions. Somehow, it was all right that McCoy had seen that side of him. McCoy had kept up a steady stream of banter ever since the Captain left them alone, but so far he had not mentioned Scotty's nightmares. The Engineer had no doubt that he'd come around to the subject eventually, but was grateful that he had not mentioned it so far.

"We've been following their ion trail all day and most of the night. Any ideas when we might intercept them, Scotty?"

"Within the next four hours. They keep changing direction to try to throw us off the trail, but so far, we've managed to follow them easily."

"Scotty, is there anything you want to talk about while we are alone?"

"Nae." Then he said, "Why can't I shake off what happened? Why am I still dreaming about it?"

"You are the one with the answer to that question. All I can do is help you bring it out. Have you been dreaming about it since it happened?"

"Nae. I dreamed about it for two weeks after it happened, and then I started dreaming about it again three or four days ago."

"So, something sparked a memory of that time, and that's why you started dreaming about it again."

"I don't want to do this anymore, Dr. McCoy. I just want it all to go away like it never happened."

"I can't make it like it was before, but I can help you learn to live with what happened, Scotty, so that the nightmares stop. When we get back to the ship, I want to do some tests in sickbay, and I want you to meet with me once a week for a while. Can you do that?"

"Aye. Much obliged, Doctor McCoy." The engineer turned toward his viewscreen, not wanting the doctor to see his face, and suddenly noticed a star sized speck that appeared to be moving. _But stars don't move in space_. He turned on the magnification screen, and at magnification six, he could make out the outline of a medium sized ship.

"Dr. McCoy, I think we're about to intercept. You might want to wake the Captain."

"You think that's the ship we're after?"

"If it's not, we've been chasing it for no reason for twenty one hours."

"That's a Tellarite ship. I remember seeing one like it when we picked up the delegates for the Babel conference. Let's see what the Captain wants to do about it." Muttering to himself, he moved back and woke Captain Kirk. There was a brief, muffled exchange, and the Captain moved forward and sat in the co-pilot's seat while McCoy crowded in behind.

"Mr. Scott, match course and speed. We want to parallel, not to intercept. I want to try to get in, get Lady Amanda, and get out before they know we've been there."

"How do ye plan to do that, sir?" Kirk reached into his pocket and pulled out a data tape, which he inserted into the computer. He typed in a few simple commands.

"The Commodore offered us a little help. Dr. McCoy, you are with me. Amanda may be injured. Mr. Scott, you will pilot this vessel and be prepared to leave and report to Starfleet Command and the Enterprise if something goes wrong. Is that understood?"

"Aye, sir." McCoy had been watching the program run, and he gathered that the program had to do with the transporter, but could not see the screen enough to tell what it was meant to do. "What are you doing, Jim?" he asked, hoping the Captain did not hear the note of anxiety in his voice.

"Reconfiguring the transporter, Bones. We want to get in without being detected, and get out before they know we've been there."

"What will that program do exactly?" Kirk took the measure of his friend's question for a moment, then smiled thinly, and said, "Don't ask, Bones. You probably don't want to know."

"Captain!" McCoy exclaimed, alarmed. Kirk smiled wickedly before he answered.

"The program apparently hooks our transporter into their cargo transporter, disables alarms, and makes the machine read our pattern as cargo so that it will beam us aboard. Lighten up. If we don't rematerialize, we won't care."

"That's not funny," McCoy snapped, but without heat.

"It wasn't intended to be funny," Kirk said, then abruptly stood, frowning, and turned to Scott.

"Scotty, check my work. We cannot afford to have anything go wrong." He changed places with his Chief Engineer, who tinkered with the device, and then pronounced himself satisfied.

"Aye, Captain. That's a sophisticated wee beastie, that is. She'll nae put ye down in the wrong place."

"Thank you, Mr. Scott. Doctor, are you ready?" McCoy grumbled something that sounded like a diatribe of well chosen insults, but he slung his medical ready pack over his shoulder, and took his place next to the Captain. Kirk nodded to Scotty, and then the familiar tingling sensation of the transporter took them, and they rematerialized in total darkness.

McCoy heard a sharp intake of breath across the room, and then silence. A hand lamp flared to life and, as his eyes grew accustomed to the dimness, he saw the source of the indrawn breath, lying on a bunk in the corner of the room. Less than two seconds later, he was kneeling next to the limp and semi-conscious form, tricorder in hand. He took a bright red hypospray out of his ready pack, and held it to the person's neck.

"Well, Doctor?"

"Human female, upper middle age, in bad shape. From the looks of these readings, I'd say she's been tortured."

"Is it Amanda?"

"Hard to say, without seeing her face, but I would imagine so. She seemed to recognize the transporter effect."

"Can she be moved?"

"Not yet. As soon as she's stable."

"We don't have much time, Doctor." He injected her with two more hypospray solutions, closed his bag, and turned to Kirk, smiling widely as he did.

"There. She's stabilizing. We're going to have to carry her. She's too weak to walk, and may have an injury to her legs. Hard to tell until I can see."

Kirk opened his communicator, and signaled Scott to beam them out, while Dr. McCoy positioned the limp form in front of him.

When they rematerialized inside the shuttle, Kirk helped McCoy lay the woman out over the back seat. McCoy set to work and Kirk moved up front with Scotty. The woman slowly became aware of being touched. Gentle hands examined her injuries and applied dressings or used a protoplaser to close any cuts. When she struggled to sit up, gentle hands pushed her back into the softness she read as pillows, and she felt a tingly sensation on her upper arm.

Kirk seated himself in the co-pilot's seat, and occupied himself with looking through the viewer. Then he straightened and speared Mister Scott, who was avoiding him, with a hazel stare.

"Mr. Scott, how are you feeling?"

"Fine, sair."

"Good. We've a long trip back. Did you sleep well?"

"Aye, sair." Scott winced.

"Scotty," Kirk whispered, "Are you ready for an apology? I think I owe you one."

"Ah, no sair."

"Hear me out, Mr. Scott. I am not apologizing for ordering you to sleep. The health and safety of my crew is my responsibility. I am apologizing that my decision, however necessary it was, caused you pain." Kirk paused, wanting to help his friend, and glanced behind him to be sure that McCoy was nowhere around. "You know, not every ship has its own personality. I have only served aboard two ships that seemed almost alive. The Enterprise does, and she lives, as any of the sentient beings inside her live. I credit you with her life."

"Ah, no sair," Scott protested, realizing what Kirk was trying to do. "Have ye nae figured out the secret, sair?" He smiled.

"Enlighten me, Mister Scott."

"She lives because every single crewman aboard her breathes life into her. Even those that have gone leave a piece of themselves behind. It's a symbiotic relationship." That was true. In Starfleet circles, the joke was that a Starship Captain was the bridegroom to his ship. If that were the case, then in Kirk's experience, the Chief Engineer was her clandestine lover, and the affair was a passionate one as far as Scotty was concerned. "What aboot the other one, sair?"

Kirk pulled his attention back to the present. "What?"

"You said you served on two living ships, sair. I asked aboot the other one."

"The Farragut, Mister Scott." Kirk looked wistful. "She had a great crew, too. I was three years out of the academy when we met the gaseous cloud creature. Captain Garrovick was killed, along with more than half the crew. As I lost consciousness, my last thought was that my Captain and the crew had died because of me. When I woke up, days later, the doctor told me how lucky I was. I didn't feel lucky. I felt bad for my shipmates, and guilty that so many of them died and I hadn't. For months I dreamed about that creature and I kept seeing the faces of those who died. I dreamt of firing faster and killing the creature. The ship's surgeon repaired the physical damage, but I could not talk about what happened. I moved on and healed, and I learned to bury the pain, but it never completely went away.

"When we met the cloud creature again, it all came back, and I had nightmares again. When we destroyed the creature, I realized that firing on it sooner would not have made a difference, and I was finally able to let some of it go. The nightmares went, too." Scott was touched. He knew that the Captain was a very private man, and the gift that he had just offered Scott was the most precious he could have given. It was the gift of trust.

"Thank ye, Cap'n."

"I think it helped that McCoy stopped by to see me. You may not find it easy to talk to him, but he can help, Scott. I hope you'll let him."

"Aye, sair. We discussed it while ye wair sleeping."

"Good. I am going back to check on Lady Amanda. I will give you a few minutes."

"Thank ye, sair."

Kirk made his way to the back of the shuttle, and sat down beside McCoy. The Doctor greeted him with a measuring look. Kirk wasn't sure he liked it.

"How is she?" McCoy straightened her covers, and busied himself with other small tasks, as he always did when he was considering what to say. She was comfortable, and the voices that murmured around her were pleasant.

Ever so slowly, she began to understand the conversation going on around her."

"I don't mind telling you, she's in rough shape, Jim. She has several broken bones, a punctured lung, and some internal injuries; I need to get her back to the ship soon. I think she'll make it."

"Do what you can for her, Bones."

"That was the easiest rescue mission I've ever been on."

"I noticed that, too. It was almost too easy."

The prone form below them opened her eyes and saw two familiar faces. She tried to smile, but it hurt.

"Captain Kirk. Dr. McCoy. Is Spock here?"

"Lady Amanda," Kirk said, nodding. She tried to sit up, and McCoy gently pushed her back down. "Lie still. Rest. We'll get you to the ship as soon as we can. Spock is waiting for you there." He held a hypospray to her arm, and she slept. The doctor looked at his Captain and said, "How are you, Jim?"

"I'm fine. Why?"

"Are you sure it was a good idea to tell Scotty about your nightmares?"

"You heard that, did you? I know what you are going to say—that a Captain can't afford to be vulnerable in the eyes of his crew. I believe Mr. Scott can handle it. He knows me well enough to have seen some of those vulnerabilities before now. All of my senior officers do."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know, Bones. I think it was something I needed to deal with on my own. Are you surprised?"

"Surprised? No. It explains a great deal. I am disappointed that you didn't feel you could tell me."

"Bones, it wasn't a matter of trust, I assure you." Truth told, he couldn't explain what it was.

(0o0)

Nurse Chapel had moved her work to the desk the doctors' usually used, in the main area of sickbay, where she could carry out M'Benga's orders to keep an eye on the Commodore while she worked on other things. She missed McCoy. He wasn't as even tempered as M'Benga, that was true, but she always knew where she stood, and had grown to appreciate that over the three years they'd spent working together. She had seen time and again what kind of man he was, and how that made him one of the finest medical men she'd ever known.

She had grown to regard McCoy as a friend, especially on that horrible day when she beamed down with the Captain and discovered that chivalry was, if not dead, mechanized. Horrified to learn what her fiancé had become, appalled at what he'd done with Captain Kirk, and furious that he'd not tried to make contact with her since he moved, she still hadn't known what to think when a phaser blast proved her once and present fiancé an android. McCoy had said nothing when he met them in the transporter room after, instead telling her to take off early, and sending her to her cabin so she would be spared the stares and questions of her colleagues.

McCoy had shown up at her door that evening, carrying a bottle of wine. He'd stayed long enough to satisfy himself that his Head Nurse would be all right, and cemented their friendship in the process. He'd convinced her that her decision to stay with the ship had been right. Sshe couldn't help worrying as she thought of McCoy and the Captain away on some secret mission, risking their lives for who knew what.

"How is she, nurse?"

"Hmm?" She looked up, straight at Doctor M'Benga.

"How is she?" he repeated, amused.

"Oh, she's growing stronger. Her life signs are near normal now, Doctor."

"Good. Please come and assist me for a moment, Nurse Chapel."

"Yes, Doctor." She followed him toward the medical lab, where continued testing of the Lugubrians' blood was taking place, as they tried to isolate a new vaccine. Either the disease had mutated, or the planetary officials who had asked for help hadn't known what it was they were looking at with this disease. The vaccine they developed on the way to Lugubria wasn't working, and they had yet to come up with an effective treatment plan for those already affected.

(0o0)

The Commodore suddenly became aware that someone was choking her. She tried to put her hands up to loosen the grip around her neck, but they would not move. Trying to sit up also proved unsuccessful. Mild panic welled in her as she realized she was alone. Forcing herself to evaluate the situation as her military training required, she willed herself to calm and looked around as much as she could, being unable to move more than a few inches in any direction. She recognized the beeps, whirrs and chirps on a level beyond conscious understanding. She was in a sickbay, and judging by the fact that someone was trying to choke her, she decided that she was being held prisoner on a hostile vessel.

Focusing all the strength of her ancestry, both Andorian and Vulcan, she loosened the straps that held down her arms, and then began to work on the others. With a mighty yank that took almost all of the strength she possessed, she finally dislodged the last strap, the one that choked her, and sat up coughing and rubbing her throat. It was only then that she realized she was still on the Enterprise.

Just at that moment, the Red Alert Claxon sounded. Her first duty was to take command of the ship, but she was not steady. Closing her eyes, she focused on what she had to do, and willed her body to cooperate. Her medical bag was on a shelf above her bed. Placing it on the ledge beside her, she pulled out a hypospray filled with a stimulant. With a frown of concentration, she held it to her neck and winced as it delivered its load. She made her way to the bridge before it had time to work.

As she strode out of the turbolift doors, Lieutenant Sulu rose from the center seat and moved back to the helmsman's chair. She might be mistaken, but she thought he looked relieved to let her have it.

"Report, Lieutenant," she snapped, in a tone that made Sulu wonder why he'd ever found it difficult to report to Kirk. Next to her, making a report to the Captain was easy. He swallowed hard.

"I'm not sure, sir. We've just hit something and stopped." Trying not to show the relief she felt when she sank down into the command chair, she spoke with more confidence than she felt.

"All right. Call Mr. Spock to the bridge." Sulu looked as though he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him.

"I can't sir."

"Why not?"

"He isn't here. He left with Sarek in a shuttlecraft about twelve hours ago."

Had she really been out that long? She said something in Andorian, and Sulu marveled at how curses sound the same, whatever language they are in.

"I will address that situation with Mr. Spock later. Right now, the immediate concern is to determine the scope of the problem. Who usually backs Mr. Spock up on scanners?" Pavel Chekhov turned slowly to face her. "All right, Mr. Chekhov, please take over on scanners."

(0o0)

"Captain!" Kirk rose and moved back up front, concerned with the tone of Scott's voice.

"What is it, Scotty?"

"A sensor ghost, sair."

"Where, Mr. Scott?"

"There," he said, motioning to a speck on the screen. "Do ye want me to try hailing them, sair?"

"No, Mr. Scott. Not yet. Let's see what they are up to first. It may be a second Tellarite ship, or it may not even be a ship, and in that case, we don't want to give our position away to the Tellarites. So far, we must seem like a sensor ghost to them."

"Aye, sir."

The question of whether they should try hailing the ship became moot a moment later. Kirk watched in disbelief as the Tellarite ship turned and fired on their 'sensor ghost'. After a moment, the small ship fired back.

"Mr. Scott, it is our responsibility to help, especially since they might be firing on that ship thinking that they are the ones who took the Lady Amanda. Ready phasers."

"Phasers armed and ready, sair."

"Fire phasers, Mr. Scott."

"Firing sir." They scored a hit. _Good_, Kirk thought. _That ought to keep them busy a while_. The Tellarite ship swung back toward them, and Kirk ordered evasive maneuvers as the larger vessel fired at them. They easily dodged, and while they were occupying the Tellarite ship, the other vessel fired, and scored a direct hit that barely damaged the Tellarite ship. The bigger ship was at a disadvantage because, though her firepower was equal to theirs, her size made her sluggish. Swinging back around, she scored a direct hit that disabled the other small vessel out there. Scott fired again, and the Tellarite ship started spinning wildly from side to side, firing with reckless abandon. A moment later, the space around their shuttlecraft filled with a blinding white light, as the large craft destroyed itself. Kirk felt a stab of guilt that some cultures still found suicide preferable to surrender, although in certain cases, he could not honestly say that was a philosophy with which he disagreed. The Federation would have made sure they were treated fairly, though, and the Tellarites were Federation citizens, so there were laws that governed how they treated their prisoners. It all just seemed a senseless waste of life to him.

Kirk felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to find McCoy standing next to him, concern for his friend in his eyes. McCoy knew that Kirk always took things like this hard. "Are you all right, Jim?"

"Bones, I didn't want it to end this way."

"I know, Jim. Sometimes, there's no choice. At least we got Lady Amanda off the ship before they destroyed it"

"How is she, Bones?"

"Well, shaking the ship around didn't do her any favors, but I don't think there's anything wrong that a little rest and some rehabilitation exercises won't help."

"That's good."

"Captain, what do you plan to do about the other small ship, sir?" Kirk looked at the forward viewscreen, where Scotty had transferred the sensor readings, and saw that the ship was floating derelict in space, completely disabled. "Have you tried hailing them, Mr. Scott?"

"Aye sir. I think their communications station must have been destroyed in the blast."

"Let's have a closer look at them. Magnify, Scotty."

"Aye sir. Magnification four."

"Well, she appears to belong to our side. Is the transporter operable?"

"Aye."

"Lock on to the passengers and beam them aboard. We'll put a tractor beam on the craft and tow her with us."

"Aye."

A moment later, the familiar sound of the transporter rose to a loud whine, and the telltale sparkles outlined two figures. Kirk was busy with the tractor beam while Scott ran the transporter, and so he did not see the two figures that materialized on the transporter pad. He heard a gasp and some chatter, and then a shushing sound as McCoy defended his patient's sleep. Mr. Scott returned to check that the tractor beam was not too large a drain on their engines. They might be all right.

"Mr. Scott, take over. I want to talk to the passengers who just beamed aboard. I want to know what they are doing out here."

"Aye, sir."

Kirk walked to the rear of the shuttlecraft, around the wall that separated the cockpit from the rest of the ship. He was surprised to see Spock and Sarek standing with their backs to him, talking to McCoy about Amanda. He cleared his throat, and both Spock and Sarek looked up.

"Captain," the Vulcans said, in greeting.

"Mr. Spock, what are you doing here?"

"I intended to rescue my mother, but it seems you have already done that, so I am currently discussing her condition with Dr. McCoy."

"Perhaps the better question is why are you not on the ship? I left you in command."

"Actually, you did not, sir. You left me confined to quarters until Dr. McCoy cleared me to work. You left Mr. Sulu in command. Perhaps we can discuss this later, Captain. I have something more urgent that requires your attention." Kirk's eyes narrowed, but he knew that tone of voice. And he trusted his First Officer enough to know when to defer to him. Nothing said he had to like it, though.

"Sir, if we could discuss something privately?" They moved back to the back of the shuttlecraft, near where Bones was tending Spock's mother. Recognizing a private conference when he saw one, he rose to leave, but both Kirk and Spock bade him stay. "This concerns you, too, Doctor."

"All right. Let's have it, Spock."

"I was registering a sensor ghost during most of our journey, at the extreme far range of the shuttle's sensors. I had no reason to think it was anything else, as it never moved until the Tellarite ship destroyed itself, and then, I think the smaller ship panicked. They passed through our sensor range for a time, in their haste to warp out."

"What do you think this means, Spock?"

"Either someone is colluding with the Tellarites to kidnap my mother, or they were after father and me."

"Perhaps both. Do you have a heading for this sensor ghost?" Kirk's tone was thoughtful.

"Heading three four three, mark 12."

"All right. Opinions, gentlemen?"

"If we are going to chase them, Jim, I'd rather do it with the Enterprise. She's bigger and has more fire power."

"I agree, Doctor." Jim Kirk looked up in surprise. He did not hear that statement often. "Why, Spock?"

"The origin of the ship was Orion, Captain. They are pirates. Even on their smaller ships, they have heavy firepower. We would be hopelessly outgunned if we were to meet them in the shuttlecraft."

"Your logic is stellar, as always, Mr. Spock. All right, gentlemen, we are looking at 16 hours of travel time back to the Enterprise at maximum warp. I don't wish to lose this ship just to secure the Enterprise's help."

"Engaging them in the shuttlecraft is a suicide mission."

"Perhaps, we can lure them back to us. They haven't fulfilled their mission. They will try again."

"Agreed, Jim." They walked back around the bulkhead to the front of the back of the shuttlecraft, and Kirk continued his previous statement as though he had not been cut off.

"The point is, Mr. Spock, I left you on the ship, and you did not have orders from me to be anywhere else. Did the Commodore send you?"

"No, sir."

"Then you shouldn't be here, Spock. I will not discuss this with you now. Your mother will wake soon, and she does not need the distress. I will want to hear your explanation when we get back to the ship, and it had better be a good one." Kirk's eyes were flashing. He felt betrayed on some level, and he could not explain why.

"Captain Kirk, I ordered Spock to accompany me on a rescue mission. I must recover some evidence from my wife's person. I left it with her while I was on the frontier, so that it would be safe. Otherwise, my testimony to the Federation council will mean nothing, as there would be nothing to back it up. I believe regulation 6915.—"

"I don't need to hear the regulations, Ambassador. I am familiar with diplomatic authority in such cases. Were you aware, sir, that there is no one to command the Enterprise in Spock's absence, none with any real command experience?"

"You are forgetting that Commodore Thavalan is aboard, Captain. Her record speaks quite highly of her command experience. The ship that she commanded before was an instrumental part of the Blushing Dawn incident out on the frontier." McCoy whistled. He had heard the Captain talk about that incident. It was the thing of interstellar legend. If he remembered correctly, the CO of that ship had received the Silver Palm with Cluster for that affair.

"Really? I suppose she can keep the Enterprise safe until we can get back there." Kirk looked like he wanted to say something else, but decided against it, and instead looked as though he would quite like to throw something.

"All right, Mr. Scott. Let's see if we can find that ship."

(0o0)

The Captain of the tiny ship, Thak, could not believe his eyes. How did two tiny shuttlecraft overcome a huge Tellarite ship? He twisted the arm of the slave girl he was holding until she cried out in pain and terror. Then he shoved her roughly back against the wall. He watched in horror as the last vestiges of the bright light that signaled the end of the Tellarite ship faded into the all encompassing darkness of space. The slave girl, Barin, huddled in the corner, afraid to move lest she test the wrath of the Orion captain. She wondered what would happen to her now, knowing she had been brought along as cargo for trade to the Tellarite ship in exchange for Ambassador Sarek's wife. Now that the ship was destroyed and the mission failed, she knew her prospects were not good. The ship she was on could not afford for her to be found in the event they were raided, and she knew that Thak would kill her as soon as he tired of her.

Right now, he was pacing back and forth on the bridge of the tiny ship, debating whether to stay a sensor ghost or run away. It was doubtful he had fooled the shuttlecraft into believing he was a sensor ghost, and with two of them here, his chances were not good if they decided to see what he was. He had plenty of firepower aboard the small craft, but then, so had the Tellarites, and they had been defeated. He would not make the same mistake that captain made. He would not underestimate his enemy. Throwing out a command to his bridge crew to withdraw, regroup, head back for Orion territory, he suddenly strode forward, grasped Barin by the hair, and dragged her toward his cabin.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Commodore Thavalan sat on the bridge, wondering for the millionth time where Spock had gone, and sure that she did not want to know the answer to that question. She stared into the swirling, hoary vortex in front of her, willing it to give forth its secrets. The Enterprise had run up against the anomaly on the screen and stopped dead, and if they did not do something quite soon, they would be in freefall.

She quietly called up the ship's library computers, and searched for anyone with a background in science. She saw that Mr. Sulu had done a tour in Astrophysics before he became the helmsman, but studying his record, she understood that helmsman was his calling. She would only ask him to help as a last resort. Mr. Chekhov filled in for Mr. Spock on scanners, and Spock was training him. That was promising, anyway.

"Lt. Palmer, report!" she snapped. Palmer sat up straighter and spoke crisply.

"There's nothing to report, sir. I've been continuously hailing in all known frequencies, with no response."

"All right, Lieutenant. I suspect that's because there is no ship out there, but keep trying."

"Aye sir."

"Mr. Chekhov, ready probe Alpha one."

"Probe ready, sir"

"Fire probe, Mr. Chekhov."

"Probe away. Entry in 10 seconds…5, 4, 3, 2, 1, and probe failed to penetrate."

"All right. Instead of firing straight on, we'll try entering at an angle. Ready probe Alpha two."

"Probe ready sir."

"Fire probe, Mr. Chekhov."

"Probe away. Entry in 8 seconds…4, 3, 2, 1, and probe is inside the anomaly, sir."

"All right, transfer data to science station, and I will need your analysis, Mr. Chekhov."

"Aye, sir," he said, moving toward the science station while his relief moved toward the navigation console. He was beginning his analysis of the data, wishing that Spock were there so that he could ask his advice, when the data started moving at lightning speed.

"Sir, the data is flying by. I can't slow it down enough to read it."

"Really? Can you record it into the ship's library computer banks, and then we can go back and slow it down later?"

"Aye sir. The ship records it automatically."

"Mr. Sulu, let's back up and try going around that thing. If the data is moving that fast, we should have it all by the time we reach the point that would break connection with it."

"Aye sir." His nimble fingers flew over the keyboard, giving the ship the command to back up. A moment later he froze and said, "Helm unresponsive, sir."

"Apply thrusters." He did so to no avail. He was about to say as much when he saw the Commodore standing beside him. "Are we being sucked in?"

"Negative, though sensors show we should be. It is as though there are two conflicting forcefields, one drawing us in while the other pushes us out. It also seems that each of them grow stronger as opposing force is exerted on them." Sulu's frustration was evident on his face.

"So, in other words, as we try to break away, the force pulling us in grows stronger, but if we tried to enter the vortex, the force repelling us would be stronger. Is that correct?" The Commodore frowned as the implications of what she was saying struck her.

"Yes, sir."

"But why? That makes no sense. Why would anyone want to stop us dead in space?"

"Perhaps it is a natural phenomenon. If two forces were violently opposing one another, and we happened to be caught in the middle…" Chekov trailed off, not sure he wanted to consider the possibilities of that particular line of reasoning.

"Thank you, Mr. Chekhov." She stalked back to the center seat, and plopped into the command chair. "Opinions on how to get ourselves out of here?" She looked around the bridge. They all shook their heads. Then two things happened at almost the same time that made their situation all the more desperate. They lost lights, and they lost gravity. As she felt herself starting to float, the Commodore wrapped herself around the command console, effectively locking herself in. She punched a button on the arm of her chair and called Engineering. Scotty's second assured her that life support systems had not been compromised, and that they were working to restore artificial gravity and to get the backup generators turned on. It might take a few minutes, but they would do it.

Before they could do anything, however, the ship began shaking violently as though it would shake apart. The crew should have been thrown to the floor, but oddly enough, while it was shaking, something exerted a force on the crew members, something like a heavy G force that pinned them to their seats, rendering them completely unable to move. One of the backup crew members, who had not been quick enough to grab anything on the bridge when he felt himself floating, had floated all the way to the ceiling and had pushed off to head back down when the heavy G force like pressure started, and he now found himself pinned to the ceiling. Fortunately, it was not high, so he would not have too far to fall when, and if, it suddenly ended. The pressure the force exerted on them was beyond intense, and crew members were feeling it all over the ship. No one could think, no one could concentrate, all thoughts were pushed out of their heads, and one by one, they started to black out.

Then, just as suddenly as it started, it was over. Minutes passed, and they each began to wake up. Nurse Chapel was the first to wake in sickbay, and after checking on the patients there, she woke the rest of the medical staff and sent them to different decks on the ship to look for injured crewmen. She headed for the bridge, knowing that was where McCoy would want her, since he could not be there, and knowing that injuries there could be critical to the operation of the ship. As the turbolift carried her up several decks to the bridge, she thought about what she might find, and wondered if the medicines she had would be sufficient. She had taken the largest medikit she could find on the way out of sickbay.

By the time Chris Chapel arrived on the bridge, Ensign Chekhov was awake, as were Lieutenants Palmer and Sulu. Sulu and Chekhov huddled over one particular crewman, and she gathered from his injuries that he had been caught in the loss of gravity. He would need a trip to sickbay, but his injuries were not serious. She would check on everyone else and then come back to him.

"Are you three okay?" They assured her that they were. She joined Palmer, who had knelt next to the Commodore, and was gently slapping her cheek, trying to wake her. Commodore Thavalan opened her eyes, and moved as if to stand up. Nurse Chapel put a hand on her chest and shook her head. Dee spoke quietly, so that only the nurse could hear. "We don't know what's going on out there, Nurse. With Kirk, Spock, and Scott gone, my duty is to be in that chair, and your responsibility is to get me there. Now."

Nurse Chapel hesitated for just a moment, unsure whether to comply or get the ACMO up there to override the order. In the end, she knew there was no choice. The Commodore was correct, she was the only senior officer aboard currently capable of command. Chapel injected her with an Andorian stimulant, and helped her to her feet. "Thank you, Nurse," she said, gravely.

"Miss Uhura, contact all decks for damage reports," she snapped, and the Communications officer could hear just the slightest strain in her voice.

The Communications' Officer's voice was steady as she made the call, but when she closed the channel, her eyes clouded with concern. She watched the medical team getting Stiles onto a stretcher and wondered how many more there were on the ship that might be in the same condition. She knew how lucky she was to have come away with only a few bruises. Sulu, grateful that the Commodore was in command again, had just settled himself at the helm when the turbo-lift doors opened and a familiar voice said, "My God, what happened here? Commodore, were you trying to destroy my ship?" Kirk strode across the bridge and down to the center seat, radiating that indefinable power he had, his whole countenance saying that someone was about to be taken to task for the bridge looking the way it did.

The Commodore decided she'd better explain, and as quickly as possible. "No Captain. The ship ran up against an anomaly and we were stuck. Then, we lost gravity for awhile. After that, something exerted a heavy g force on us, and pinned us all to our seats. One by one we were rendered unconscious. We just woke up again. Now that you are back, I am going to my quarters.

"All right. No wonder we couldn't get anyone to answer when we hailed. First things first. McCoy has some patients of his own to treat, and probably more now."

Precisely five minutes later, Spock stepped smartly out of the turbolift onto the bridge. He walked straight to his science station and looked full on into the blue light of his scanners. What he saw fascinated him. Kirk cleared his throat. The Vulcan looked up and met his Captain's eyes.

"Report, Mr. Spock?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Explain."

"We are now facing nothing but normal space. Whatever anomaly the ship was facing before is gone, Captain. Sensors indicate the ship has moved approximately one hundred thousand kilometers from our previous location. We are still in the same star system, Captain."

"Spock, have a look at the ship's logs. There should be a recording of everything that has happened in the past few hours. I want answers to all of this." Jim Kirk rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, and he could feel the beginnings of a tension headache lurking behind his eyes.

Spock inclined his head slightly, and regarded the Captain with one eyebrow raised. He must have decided not to say anything, though, because he turned back toward his station, just as the raucous noise of a proximity alarm echoed across the bridge. Turning stiffly toward the main view screen, as if in slow motion, Jim Kirk stared in horror at the shuttlecraft about to crash into them.

"Evasive maneuvers," he yelled, and Sulu sprang into action before he even finished. As Kirk braced himself for collision, he found himself hoping that whatever evasive they could institute in the very short time they had would work.

(0o0)

"Mister Spock, can you explain that?" The two men were standing in front of the command chair on the bridge, staring at the main viewscreen, where the shuttlecraft floated derelict in space. They had barely avoided colliding with it, but both Kirk and Sulu knew they had avoided it as they passed one another. There was no reason their encounter would have left the ship derelict, though it had not seemed to be floating helplessly before.

"It appears to be a Vulcan shuttlecraft, a new design, of which I've only seen the prototype. It has been outfitted for long range travel, however."

"Sir," Chekov spoke, with some trepidation in his voice. "The shuttlecraft is breaking up."

Kirk hit a button on the side of his command chair. "Bridge to transporter room."

"Transporter room. Kyle, here."

"Mr. Kyle, lock coordinates onto shuttlecraft. Prepare to beam over passengers."

"Locking on now, sir."

"Begin transport, Mr. Kyle. Keep me apprised. Kirk out." Touching another button, he switched channels. "Bridge to sickbay."

"Sickbay, Chapel here."

"Nurse, is Dr. McCoy down there?"

"McCoy here, sir."

"Doctor, please meet me in the transporter room as soon as you can get there."

"On my way, Captain."

"Mister Spock, you are with me. Mister Sulu, you have the conn."

As Kirk and Spock left one turbolift and made their way down the hall, McCoy came hurtling out of another one, somewhat further down, and fell into stride beside them.

"What are we looking at, Jim?"

"As we speak, Mr. Kyle is transporting the passengers of the shuttlecraft we've been pursuing aboard this ship. I want you there in case they sustained any injuries when their ship started to break apart."

The conversation ended there, since the three of them had reached the transporter room. They walked inside to find three armed security teams surrounding the passengers, phasers aimed and ready.

"Since when does the Federation find it necessary to point phasers at unarmed pacifists, Commander?" The group's spokesman was addressing this question to Lieutenant Commander Giotto, the ship's security Chief.

"That is proper protocol anytime someone potentially hostile comes aboard ship. When you did not answer our summons, you marked yourselves as potentially hostile," Kirk explained quietly.

"My apologies, Captain." The communications console in our shuttlecraft suffered damage from an ion storm we endured a few weeks back. Since then, we've not been able to communicate with anyone."

"Are you in command of that vessel?"

"I am."

"What are you doing in this corner of the galaxy?"

"We escaped as the last survivors of a ship that was lost."

"A ship! What ship?"

"The USS Intrepid, sir. The first totally Vulcan starship on the Federation's registry. Lost three months ago."

"Impossible," Spock said. "Everyone on that ship perished. I felt it, just as any Vulcan in the area would have."

"I don't doubt that you felt everyone perish, though certainly not all Vulcans would have, when the ship died. We had been dropped off on Argos 2 to study a new discovery in the local flora and fauna, while the rest of the crew went on ahead to the next mission, on Albac 7. We were to meet them there. They never made it. We stayed there for a few days, thinking that they might have been held up, somehow, and not able to make contact with them. Precisely 1.245 solar days later, we also felt the ship die. There were fifteen of us when we left the planet, but apparently, we picked up something on Argos 2 that affects Vulcans greatly. We ten are the only ones left."

"Doctor, quarantine them in the infectious diseases area of sickbay. We don't know what this thing is, or whether it will have similar effects on humans. The last thing we need is an ill crew."

"I agree. Ladies and Gentlemen, if you will follow me."

"Proper protocol, Doctor. Be sure."

"Of course, sir."

(0o0)

In the simulated night's darkness in sickbay, a lone figure lay awake and staring into the blackness. Everyone else in this part of the ship was sleeping, except those few at their normal duty stations. Two security guards were still posted at the door that led from the corridor into the infectious diseases part of sickbay. There was one doctor on the night watch, and another on call, who would be asleep in his quarters. There were also two nurses on duty, and an orderly. Night watch generally had a lighter staff than day watch, the idea being that more would generally happen on day watch, since that is when landing parties were dispatched, and as a result, more of the junior staff generally drew Night watch duty, supervised of course, by a rotation of senior officers. Tonight, Dr. M'Benga was on duty, along with a brand new orderly, Ensign Salvatore, and Nurses Turner and Lebrand.

Every hour, Dr. M'Benga walked over to the glass doors that separated infectious diseases from the rest of sickbay, and stood watching his patients for any sign of distress. All ten of them seemed to be sleeping deeply. Satisfied that there was nothing he could do for them that sleep would not do better at the moment, he moved back through the main area of sickbay and down the hall to the medical lab to give the technicians there the latest readings from the Vulcans' diagnostic couches and their latest tests to be analyzed. Looking at his chrono, he saw that his shift would be over in about an hour, and since sickbay was quiet, he decided to stay there and work on the test results himself, knowing that McCoy wanted answers to this as soon as possible. The nurses on duty knew where to find him if they needed him.

(0o0)

Watching the shadow on the other side of the door move away, he felt unbridled anger burn within him at being held like this, especially by those he considered inferior. He sat up and looked around at his nine colleagues. All were scientist, experts in their fields, and all were Starfleet officers, and therefore should be his companions—were his friends— until a few days ago. These insecurities had been growing stronger for days now. Most illogical. He must try to meditate. He closed his eyes and tried to focus all of his energies inward, to control his breathing, but he could not concentrate. Random thoughts would invade his mind, thoughts that he knew he should not be having, thoughts that he would ordinarily say did not belong to him, but how could they not? No, that was nonsense. Most undisciplined. He took a deep breath and tried again. Nothing. Suddenly a violent anger overtook him, and he struck out at the creatures sliding, slithering, shimmying down the walls and out of the dark shadows all around. Swiftly, silently, he struck blow after blow, first at one and then another. There was no control, no logic, only the challenge, like when he was in plaak tow. Finally, it was over, and the creatures retreated back into the dark places. Breathing deeply, he sank back down in bed, fighting the darkness that threatened to overwhelm him.

(0o0)

The Vulcans in sickbay were confined to the Infection Diseases area, under guard, but Dr. M'benga would not actually allow anyone in the room with them, for fear that the disease would spread out of control. T'san lay in her bed, trying hard to sleep, and having little success. Looking around her, she noticed shadows moving in the corners of the room. Shaking herself to rid her mind of the images, she chided herself for being fanciful. Still, shaking her head did not seem to clear it, nor did it stop the movement of the shadows. Attempts to meditate had no effect on her condition. When she could fight the shadows no longer, she rose and struck out at them, over and over, all the time fighting sinking into her own private darkness. Finally, she sank back down into bed, and slept the deep sleep of the exhausted.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Nurse Chapel was the first one to report for her duty shift in sickbay that morning. She was a little early, but she had not slept well, so she had finally given up trying to sleep, showered, dressed, and had come on to work. Allowing the two night nurses to leave when she arrived, she spent the first few minutes of her shift as she always did, picking up instruments or charts that had strayed to parts of sickbay other than where they belonged, and putting them back in their proper places. Then, she wiped down the counters and tables with disinfectant. Housekeeping cleaned sickbay twice daily, and Dr. McCoy's standards of cleanliness were very high, so she knew they did a good job, but she also knew that where someone's health was concerned, there was no such thing as too clean. When she finished, she checked the bins for any paperwork that needed to be filed or copied or transcribed. She always spent a few minutes feeding data into the medical computer. Finally, pronouncing herself satisfied with her workspace and ready for the day's work, she pulled current patient charts and laid them out on the desk for the doctor scheduled on her watch, in this case Dr. Hernandez, to review.

She usually spent the next few minutes visiting patients, checking on the progress they made overnight, and making sure any new orders in their charts were being fulfilled and that they had anything they might need. She knew that Dr. Hernandez would want to visit them for himself, but she wanted to be able to report on their progress if she was asked. That was the mark of a good Head Nurse, she felt. She was pleased to find that there were no patients in the regular areas of sickbay. Either it was a quiet night, or none of the injuries were severe enough to require an overnight stay. She would check the Vulcans next, but first she wanted to go to the lab to get their latest test results, which she knew that Dr. Hernandez would want to see when he arrived. Exiting the lab, Dr. M'Benga almost collided with her, as she tried to enter. "Oh, Nurse Chapel, I'm sorry. Is it time for shift change already?"

"Almost. I'm a little early this morning." She saw the file in Dr. M'Benga's hand. "Is that the file that has the Vulcans' latest test results in it? I came to get it because I know Dr. Hernandez will want to see their progress."

"Yes, but these are just the tests themselves. Tell Jose that he can access the computerized results and recommendations under file V13a. I did not have time to print them out for the file, yet."

"Give it to me. I will do it, and then I will file this record in its proper place."  
"Thank you, Nurse Chapel."

"Are you leaving?"

"Yes. I checked on our only patients about an hour ago, and they finally seem to be sleeping. I did not go inside because I did not wish to wake them. They seemed to be doing a little better."

"Good. I will look in on them when I finish this, and I am sure Dr. Hernandez will want to check them as well. Sleep well, Doctor."

"Thank you."

Upon entering sickbay for the second time, Christine Chapel went immediately through the decontam chamber and then entered the infectious diseases ward. Some of the Vulcans were sleeping, and some were attempting healing trances, with varying levels of success. She smiled with satisfaction as she checked each bed. They seemed to be sleeping peacefully, and good, healing sleep was what they most needed right now. Approaching the last two beds in the row, she noticed that they were empty. As she walked up even with them, she suddenly understood what had happened. The occupants of those two beds lay on the floor, bodies twisted at weird angles, with pools of their own green blood slowly drying underneath them. As the head nurse on Starfleet's flagship, Christine Chapel had seen plenty of unusual injuries and deaths, but as she took in the grotesque tableau before her, she wasn't sure whether she most wanted to scream and keep screaming, to vomit, or to run to her quarters and hide out there until the end of this five year mission. In the end, she did none of those things. Instead, she walked to the desk in the outer area of sickbay, and called McCoy. She was surprised at how steady her voice sounded as she placed the call. Suddenly not wanting to be alone inside the ID area of sickbay, she waited for Doctor McCoy in the outer area. A moment later, she was hit with the tidal wave that was McCoy as he barreled through the door. Without a word, he rushed to the decontamination chamber and impatiently waited for it to finish bathing him in sterile rays, so that he could see for himself what was happening. The rays went on and on, and the door remained stubbornly closed. "Damn it. Come on," he bellowed, just as the door swung open, and his bellow startled the nearest Vulcans. Slowly they began to stir, and then, as what had happened to their colleagues sunk in, they began to bunch up together like a herd of frightened cows. No one touched or spoke to anyone else, but they seemed to take comfort (if a Vulcan could be said to take comfort) in one another's presence.

Turning to her, McCoy was grim when he said, "Call the Captain and Doctor Thavalan." Silently, she left to do as he asked, and by the time she finished the last call, Thavalan stalked through the door.

"How long have you been on duty this morning, Nurse Chapel?"

"Thirty minutes or so, sir."

"Where's M'Benga?" Thavalan was a stark contrast to the other doctors in sickbay at the moment. She was as calm as they were harried, and utterly still. The pitch and quality of her voice was dangerous.

"In his quarters, I would assume. He left about fifteen minutes ago."

"Please call Dr. M'Benga back to sickbay, along with the two nurses who were on duty last night. I'm sure the Captain will want to talk to them when he gets down here." McCoy said quietly. She did as she was told, and as she cut the link to the last crewman's quarters, Kirk marched into sickbay, eyes narrowed.

"What's this all about, Bones?" Kirk knew that if McCoy had called him down here this early, something serious had happened, and he was not sure he wanted to know what it was. Kirk was accompanied by Ambassador Sarek, to whom he had been talking when the summons from sickbay came in to his quarters. All Bones had told him was that it had something to do with the Vulcans in isolation. McCoy glanced at the Commodore. She inclined her head, and he said, "I have two dead Vulcans in the Infectious Diseases area. It's a pretty gruesome scene, Jim, almost as if they fought something to the death. I'll let you see for yourself, sir, but anyone going in there is going through decontamination first. We don't need to add to their problems or our own." Silently, he led them into the decontamination chamber, and then, dressed in the suits that would protect the Vulcans from their germs and vice versa, he led them into the isolation booth. They passed eight of the Vulcans, seated over in a corner, strangely still and quiet as though in disbelief, if such a thing were possible for Vulcans. One of the Vulcans, a very pretty female, lay stabbed to death on the floor. Another Vulcan, a striking young male, had been strangled.

"I found them like this when I walked in to check on them," Chapel said, quietly.

"My visual inspection puts time of death at sometime overnight, and the tricorder agrees with me," McCoy added.

"Could they have killed each other, Bones?" Kirk looked thoughtful.

"I don't think so. For one thing, the male was strangled. He was much taller than the female. She would not have been able to get a good enough hold from the angle she would have had to reach. And if you look at her stab wounds, they are inflicted on the lower parts of her body, but with an upward thrust to the cut, as though someone standing below her thrust upward to try to reach higher. I suppose it is possible that these wounds were self inflicted, but my gut tells me they weren't." McCoy paused, considering. Then, he shook his head and turned away, preparing to clean up the mess.

"Who was on duty last night?" Kirk asked, looking squarely at McCoy.

"Dr. M'Benga, sir. I've already had Nurse Chapel call him back to sickbay."

Turning to his head nurse, Kirk spoke quietly. "Call and have security send down a four man, armed team, and ask Garrovick to step down here with them. I want answers to all of this."

M'Benga walked through the sickbay doors at that moment, and Kirk looked daggers at him.

"Is there a problem, sir?" he asked Kirk, as he strode into sickbay, curious and clearly confused at why he had been called to sickbay again so soon.

"Dr. M'Benga, would you care to explain this?" Kirk asked, motioning to the bodies lying on the floor.

"They appear to be dead, Captain."

"They don't appear to be anything, Doctor," McCoy said, sarcastically, "they _are _dead. What the Captain is asking, and what I would also like to know, is why we didn't know this before now. That young woman has been dead for at least four hours."

"I checked on them not one hour ago, and they all appeared to be sleeping. There were guards posted outside the door, as per regulations, so no one could get in or out."

"Except someone did, unless you are suggesting they killed one another."

"We don't know enough about their disease to know for sure. The Commodore did mention that the people on Lugubria were becoming violently ill, and she meant that literally. They get extremely violent before they collapse. Perhaps there is a connection." He looked at her meaningfully, as though he expected her to stick up for him.

"Even if they killed one another because of the disease, I would expect you to have known that it happened, and to report it before a full half shift had passed, or more. When was the last time you walked in to check on them?"

"Protocol is that no one walks into ID when there is a risk of the disease spreading to the rest of the ship. Robots are used, unless there is no other choice."

"No. That is protocol when individual patients are enclosed in their own private Infectious Disease cubicle. For a whole ward of patients, the doctor or nurse is supposed to walk in to check on them every half hour to hour as the situation warrants because it is impossible to see the end of the ward from the door. There are too many shadows, and it is too far away to tell if the patient is in distress." The Commodore's eyes were flashing, and her antenna were flattened to her head in a posture of well controlled, if thinly veiled, anger. She turned to McCoy. "This is an Enterprise matter, so far, so I am content to allow you to handle it. I would suggest you do so before it becomes a Federation matter. When that happens, it will be up to me, and I wager none of you will appreciate _my _solution." Her hard gaze took in the room at large, and then she said, "Gentlemen, if you will excuse me, I have an appointment. I will be in my quarters." She swept out of sickbay, not sparing a glance at the men behind her. Kirk stared after her in shock.

McCoy looked at M'Benga. "Lieutenant, you are relieved of duty and confined to quarters, until further notice." Kirk nodded, in agreement, and then added, "Have your report to me by the end of Alpha shift today." M'Benga did not look happy, but he didn't argue. He simply turned on his heel and stomped out of the room.

"Well, Bones, I don't think I have ever seen that particular side of your friend, the Commodore, before. Do you think her illness is exacerbating her already sterling personality?" Kirk asked, while following the CMO into his office and closing the door behind him.

"No, sir." McCoy's tone was glacial, and he clinched his jaw, and refused to rise to the bait. Kirk tilted his head and looked at the doctor speculatively, as if he were just now understanding something about his friend that he hadn't noticed before. McCoy snorted. "There are two things you need to know about Commodore Thavalan, Jim. One, she doesn't easily tolerate incompetence, or even the appearance of it. Two, she takes death very seriously—as seriously as you take the safety of your ship and crew. She digs her heels in as hard as she does because she cares, not just about her job, but about the people, too. She understands that when any member of her staff falls down on the job, people could die, and she finds that unacceptable."

"She is a doctor. A certain amount of death goes with the territory."

"Yes. Just as it does for a Starship Captain. That's never stopped you from blaming yourself for it, or for taking it hard when you lose a crew member."

"Touche, Bones." He looked at the doctor to see if his reaction had thawed at all. It hadn't. "My apologies, Doc. It seems that Doctor Thavalan brings out the worst in me. I don't trust her, but I trust you, and I trust your judgment, and if she is your friend, there must be something good about her. I will make a greater effort to look for it."

McCoy sighed. "The Commodore _is _my friend. I am not ashamed of that fact, nor will I apologize for it. You don't know her, but I do, and as far as I am concerned, she has earned a lifetime of second chances. If she were here under different circumstances, you would see a much different person. She is the way she is because she has to be right now. She has a very difficult job to do, and she has to do it before she falls apart physically. That's put her under a tremendous amount of stress. I know it hasn't been all that easy to get along with her, but I am asking you to give her a fair shake. Join us for dinner tonight, talk to her, get to know her a little outside of work. Turn on some of that legendary Kirk charm. You might be surprised at the reaction you get."

Kirk doubted very much that she would even respond to the charm, much less surprise him with such a response, but he saw the value in making the effort to be friendly to Commodore Thavalan. It might make all of their lives aboard ship easier. "All right, Bones. Dinner. Officer's mess. Nineteen hundred hours?"

"That's fine, but let's do it in my quarters. Spock is welcome, too, if he would care to join us."

"Thanks Bones, I will ask him." Kirk made his way out of the doctor's private office, knowing there was still work to be done. McCoy followed along more slowly. The assistant security chief stepped forward when he saw the Captain.

"Lieutenant Garrovick reporting as ordered, sir."

"Lieutenant, please have two of the team members you brought with you relieve the security team on duty outside of sickbay, and then escort that team into Briefing Room 3 and wait there for McCoy and me."

"Yes, sir."

Sarek walked toward them, breaking off a conversation he'd been having with one of the Vulcans in sickbay. He spoke quietly.

"Doctor, what do you show as cause of death?"

"That's hard to say, Ambassador." McCoy looked thoughtful. "It could be either the head trauma she received, the stab wounds, or something else entirely. I won't know that until I perform an autopsy, and I'll do that this afternoon."

"All right, Doctor. Please keep me informed. I must report this to my government, and I would like to be able to give them some cause of death. If this is some type of disease, they will need to take precautions, potentially on a planetary level."

"Ambassador, could I ask you to hold off on that report for a day or so? We should have more answers for you by then, and I don't want to set the whole Federation in a panic until we know whether this thing is localized or if it is spreading."

"Logical, Doctor. All right, twenty four hours."

"Thank you, sir."

"Captain, with your permission, I'd like to stay here and talk to the good doctor's patients. It may be possible for me to help them enter healing trance, and they may have more information about all of this."

"As you wish, Ambassador."

Kirk turned and left sickbay, with McCoy in tow, moving purposefully down the hall to Briefing Room 3. Of the two guards who had been posted outside sickbay, one was a young Ensign, fairly new to the ship, and probably on his first deep space assignment. The second was a big, burly, Lieutenant, fast approaching middle age. Kirk had never had a reason to doubt his word before, and he looked at the two appraisingly. Both felt the full force of the Captain's tongue, and were trying not to cower as he interrogated them.

"Honestly, sir, no one came in or out that way since we've been on duty."

"You are sure?"

"Yes, sir."

"And neither of you left your post for even a few seconds?" Kirk's tone demanded the truth. Flinching slightly, the first man shook his head, and the second one said, "no, sir." Both McCoy and the Captain caught the warning look that passed between them, but neither chose to comment.

Finally, Kirk said, "Gentlemen, you are relieved of duty and confined to quarters until further notice." He turned to Assistant Security Chief Garrovick. "Garrovick, please escort these men to quarters and place the other two men you brought with you on guard there until further notice. I want a report on the progress of this investigation as soon as you find anything. Assign as many men as you need."

"Yes, sir."

Garrovick summoned the other two members of his security team, and they all left together in the direction of crew quarters. Kirk remained seated after they left, so McCoy stayed as well. Finally, Kirk said, "Doctor, what was your impression of the guards' story?"

"I'd say they knew more than they chose to tell us. Maybe they weren't being truthful, or maybe what they said was true, as far as it went, but it definitely wasn't the whole truth in that case."

"Thanks Bones, that was my impression as well. How's the Commodore?"

"Hard to say. There is nothing showing up in her blood, yet, but you would be hard pressed to get her to admit to any type of weakness. There's nothing I can do until she consents or does something to allow me to relieve her of duty. Neither of those possibilities are likely." He paused for a moment, then with a faraway look in his eye, he said, "Of all the starships, in all the universe, she had to walk into mine."

"What was that, Bones?"

McCoy stiffened. He had not realized he had spoken aloud. "That's a personal story, Captain. Something that happened a long, long time ago."

"I'll be wanting to hear it."

"Later. After things have slowed down a bit." He quickly changed the subject. "I will stop by to see her later, and make sure she is strong enough for dinner."

"So, you still suspect she is ill?"

"If I wasn't convinced before, her reaction to this thing, whatever it is, tells me there is something wrong. Otherwise, why was her reaction more severe than the others? I'm running tests now, and will let you know when I find something."


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Thanks to all of you who are reading and following this story. My apologies for getting the newest chapter out much later than intended. I own nothing, and profit not from this. Original characters and worlds are mine, though. A special thank you to those who take the time to review. Reviews really make my day, so please keep them coming. Most of all, enjoy. **

Chapter 15

Kirk's comm. unit rang just as he was beginning to wonder what was keeping the doctor, and he toggled the switch to answer it. Lunos, the governor of Lugubria, whom he had met last time they were on the planet's surface, appeared on the screen. Kirk unconsciously straightened his uniform tunic and sat up a bit straighter.

"Governor Lunos."

"Captain Kirk. I talked to some of my people. I know where your crew member is."

"That's good news."

"No, Kirk. I'm afraid it isn't. She's being held in the city of Luxon."

Kirk sensed the governor's reluctance. There had to be more to the story.

"Why?"

"I'd rather discuss that with you in person. Are you able to come over immediately?"

"Yes. I'm going to connect you to my transporter room. If you'll give Mr. Kyle your coordinates, I'll be right there."

"Thank you, Captain. I'll be waiting. Lunos out."

Kirk hung up the comm. unit and toggled another switch. "Kirk to McCoy."

"McCoy here."

"What's keeping you, Doctor?"

"A few last minute patients in sickbay. I'll be right there."

"I'm afraid they'll have to wait or see someone else. The governor of Lugubria just called, and wants to discuss Miss Uhura with us. I intend to see her, and I want you there."

"Right away, Captain."

"Transporter room. Three minutes."

"Yes, sir."

"Kirk out."

(0O0)

"Captain Kirk. Thank you for meeting with me." The three men were seated in Governor Luxon's office on Lugubria.

"Thank you for seeing me, Governor. You remember my Chief Medical Officer, Doctor McCoy?"

"Of course," he said, nodding to the doctor. McCoy nodded back. "Captain, as I said before, Miss Uhura is being held in the city of Luxon." Here he hesitated again, and Kirk wondered how bad this could be. "It seems, Captain, that there is a ten year old warrant for her arrest in that city."

"Arrest? On what grounds?"

"Fraternization between an off worlder and a citizen to start, as well as resisting arrest, obstruction of justice, aiding and abetting enemies of Lugubria, and participation in local witchcraft rituals."

"You said this warrant is ten years old? When do they expire?"

"Unfortunately, on Lugubria, they don't."

"So, what happens next?"

"She will be held in Luxon until they can arrange her trial, and then she will be tried and if convicted, she will be subject to sentencing up to the stiffest penalty allowed under Federation Law for those crimes."

Kirk frowned. "May we see her?"

"I'll make the arrangements for someone to take you both, Captain." He turned to the Doctor. "Can you tell us anything about this epidemic affecting our people?"

"The only thing I can tell you right now is that it appears the vaccine we created doesn't work. Now, whether that is because whatever this is has mutated or because the initial information we had was wrong, I don't know. My staff has been examining your people for the last three or four days, and we will continue studying the epidemic until we have a handle on what is happening, and until we create a vaccine that works. I assure you, we will find a way to help your people."

"Thank you, Doctor." Governor Lunos picked up what looked very much like a telephone receiver and spoke into it for a moment, and then hung up and turned to Kirk.

"I hope you don't mind, Captain. I anticipated your desire to see your crew woman, so I made some arrangements earlier. If you are ready, I will have my secretary show you where to go."

"Thank you, Governor. I appreciate your help in this matter. Will you be available to discuss terms for release when I come back?"

"That isn't up to just me. Representatives from each of the major provinces of Lugubria sit a committee which hears requests like that. I will put out the word to assemble the committee, but some of the representatives require travel time, and the meeting will not proceed until all are in attendance, so it may be tomorrow before we will be prepared to hear your request."

"Fair enough, Governor. Thank you."

(0O0)

After an hour ride over bumpy roads that McCoy would have known as washboards back home in Georgia, they finally reached the outskirts of a small city. The Governor's secretary explained that everyone walked everywhere in the cities, and just used ground vehicles to travel between them, and then sent them on their way and told them that they could ask for her in the city when they were finished, and she would carry them back to Lunos's office. An officious looking woman was waiting for them in the city square. She introduced herself as Kairn, and directed them to where Uhura was being held. Lieutenant Uhura breathed a sigh of relief when she saw who had come.

McCoy flashed Kirk a warning look. He had an idea. The Captain nodded almost imperceptibly. "Kairn, Federation law requires that I examine any Federation citizen being held captive to determine their mental and physical fitness for trial, and also to determine that they are being treated in accordance with both the original and updated Geneva Accords. That's mostly for prisoners on non-Federation worlds, but the law doesn't make a distinction. Is there a place I can do that, while maintaining Miss Uhura's privacy at the same time?"

"You may do that in her cell. Lugubria doesn't make it a habit of watching or listening in on their prisoners."

"Ah. Is there a place I might make her a tad more comfortable? It has been my experience, especially in cases like this, that patients open up more and are more honest when they can relax. That means truer test results, and fewer trips that it takes me to reach the same conclusions, which, of course, leads to fewer disruptions for you."

"All right, Doctor. Right this way." Releasing Uhura from her cell, she led the three of them down the hall and into what appeared to be a small interrogation or conference room. She did not go in with them, but instead closed the door behind her.

"All right, Lieutenant. Sit up on that table right there. The law entitles you to a physical and legal counsel, and you haven't had your annual physical yet, so we might as well knock it out now."

Kirk paced restlessly for a moment, while McCoy got Uhura situated. Then, the Captain locked eyes with her, and said, "Lieutenant, what can you tell me about all of this?"

"What would you like to know, Captain?" she asked, somewhat stiffly.

"I'd like to know how you beamed down on a routine landing party assignment and got arrested. I'd also like to know why these people have a ten year old warrant for your arrest"There were several charges on the warrant that your story doesn't explain. The first charge, fraternization between an off worlder and a citizen, for instance."

"The Lugubrians are something of an enigma, Captain. They look and sound just like humans, but their life signs are different. Mitch was genetically Lugubrian, and Starfleet officials generally thought that his presence would be good for relations between the two, as well as a chance to try to find out what other races the Lugubrians might have in there. He was willing, and he had told me that he and Nilbud were working on it together in their off hours. There were a small group of women in the community who were jealous of our relationship, so they charged us with impropriety, which is apparently forbidden between an off worlder and a citizen.

"All right. What about participation in local witchcraft rituals."

"The Argelians are usually the ones thought to be hedonistic in this sector of space, since they are the ones we know the best, but these people make them look like models of self sacrifice. Often, with hedonism comes superstition. In other words, the Lugubrians would see a communicator as magical, and therefore, dangerous, and someone who uses one might very well be thought to be participating in local witchcraft rituals. Dr. McCoy, as you know, the explanations for many of the medical tools you use are not overly complicated, but if someone hasn't researched them, they look like they operate magically. After Mitch was killed, Nilbud had been doing some psychiatric tests in sickbay. In those days, if it had gotten onto my record that I was seeing a psychiatrist, I could have lost my commission. Mitch was the first man I truly loved, and probably the only one for whom I would have given up the idea of traveling among the stars, and been content to work at a starbase. When he died, I was really in a bad place emotionally, and Nilbud was trying to help. Nilbud was charged with witchcraft, and after he disappeared, I kept thinking that I would hear from him that he was hiding out somewhere, waiting for all of this to blow over. It wasn't until I went to the funeral that I realized he was really dead."

"And resisting arrest, obstruction of justice, and aiding and abetting enemies of Lugubria?"

"Nilbud had called in a friend of his, a starship commander, to pick me up and take me back to the Academy for my final semester. I think that ship was the only one he knew he could trust. He had been researching Mitch's death, and although he wouldn't share with me what he found, I got the idea that he wasn't sure who he could trust any longer, even among those in the fleet. I resisted arrest because the ship beamed me out, I obstructed justice for the same reason, and when Mitch was killed, I was considered to be aiding and abetting because I did not fire my phaser. "

"Lieutenant, why didn't you tell me that you would be arrested if you beamed down to help us? We would have quite a few more options if you were still aboard ship."

"I didn't know about the warrant. It was my duty to assist you and the rest of the crew here, both as a linguist and a cultural expert, and previous trouble on a world doesn't relieve me of the obligation to do my duty. I guess I was hoping to look around a little bit, and see if I could satisfy myself that Nilbud really did have an accident. I've never quite been able to accept that."

"None of my crew will play the martyr on my watch. I won't have it, Lieutenant. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, Captain."

"Jim?"

"What is it, Bones?"

"May I have a word?" He drew the Captain off to the side of the room and spoke in a low voice.

"I think there's more to the story than she's remembering."

"What makes you think so?"

"The reactions don't fit."

"What do you mean?"

"Her reaction to my questions about Nilbud and Mitchell were way too severe for her to just have seen what she described. The reaction indicates a very traumatic experience, the kind she might have blocked out of her mind. I'd like to be able to spend some time with her in sickbay, where I have access to equipment and drugs that might help me find out."

"Noted, Doctor. I'm not sure how much we are going to be able to do here. They have a legal right to hold her. We'll see what we can do."

"All right. I'll finish up here, and then we can get back to Lunos's office and maybe you can talk him into releasing her."

"Don't count on it, Bones."

McCoy walked back over to Uhura, and held a hypospray to her arm. Then he smiled at her and said, "Time for us to go, Uhura. Keep your chin up. I'll see you soon, even if you aren't released. Do you need anything, or would you like me to give anyone on the ship a message for you?"

"Thank you, Doctor, no. I wouldn't know what to say to them right now."


	16. Chapter 16

Kirk cursed to himself as he fought to loosen the collar of a favorite sweater. It had gotten just a bit tight in the neck. The only thing he was really looking forward to about this dinner was it being over, but he knew it was important to Doctor McCoy, and that it could make the next weeks aboard ship easier, so he resolved to be as pleasant as possible.

Kirk sounded the chime outside McCoy's door. He was a few minutes early, but was hoping for a brief, private discussion with McCoy before the dinner commenced. The doors whooshed open, and the Captain walked inside to find McCoy seated with Dar, who apparently had the same idea. She handed him some sort of violently purple fizzy drink, which went immediately to his head, and he choked down the fire in his throat long enough to ask, "What is that?"

"Finnegan's Folly, James. Mine are famous across the galaxy."

"I can understand why. It goes down smooth, then sneaks back around and bites back. Please call me Jim."

"All right, Jim. Please join us. Doctor McCoy was about to tell me how he got the nickname 'Bones'." McCoy laughed, nodding at the Captain and seating himself on the other side of the Commodore.

"A good friend gave it to me," he said, winking at Kirk. Then he added, in a stage whisper, "I am not sure why, but I think it has to do with the number of bones I have had to repair for him, not to mention his crew, since the brass gave him his own ship, and made me his Chief Medical Officer."

Dee Thavalan actually giggled, and raised her eyebrows in his general direction in mock surprise. "You, Captain?"

"Guilty as charged," he said, and his smile was genuine.

"In fact, Jim is the only one who ever calls me that."

"Others have tried," Kirk said, smothering a smile he worried his CMO wouldn't appreciate under present circumstances.

"Somehow it sounds insubordinate coming from anyone with a lower rank than me," McCoy said, feeling the need to defend himself.

"Tsk, tsk," Dee said, drawing the 'S' out slightly, by virtue of the sibilant language of her people. She leaned in toward Kirk and lowered her voice conspiratorially, "I've been telling Mac for years that this is where we are different. Keep your friends close and your good friends closer, I say. That's all we have in space, after all." She turned an eye toward 'Mac' and said, "Surely you consider some of these lower ranking officers aboard ship your friends."

"Yes, Dee. I do. I was kidding when I made the insubordinate comment. Others simply don't call me by that nickname. Maybe because they think it would offend the Captain. Perhaps, it is because they all have some variation of their own nickname for me. I don't know." He turned away to serve the dinner he had asked the galley to prepare especially for the three of them. They had a lovely dinner, with stimulating conversation, and to Kirk's surprise, he found he was having quite a good time. He liked the person Dar Thavalan presented tonight. He thought he could trust this person.

"So, if it isn't too personal a question, how did you two meet?"

"Jim, how much do you know about Project Blushing Dawn?"

"Only the unclassified part that everyone knows. The Federation was pursuing a trade agreement with two frontier worlds in the same system, and the Romulans showed up hoping to start a war. The Captain of the Federation vessel saved the entire crew and the citizens of both planets from certain death, in addition to saving the trade agreement and diverting a war, but blew the ship all to hell in the process."

"That mission was what proved the Romulans had a cloaking device. I can't share any more of it with you because it is classified, but suffice it to say that I was injured in that battle. The only hospitals at that time that were set up to handle hybrids like me were on either Vulcan or Earth. As we were closer to Earth, I was taken there. Doctor McCoy nursed me back to health. That's how we met. I liked his honesty, and his straight talk about what was wrong and what I needed to do to heal. I also liked the fact that he wouldn't let me get away with the bad patient routine. Doctors are notoriously bad patients, but he wasn't having it. He's the reason I got well as quickly as I did. I will always be grateful to him for that."

At that moment, two things happened simultaneously. There was a commotion in the hallway outside the door, and the call alert chime sounded on McCoy's desktop viewer. Grinning an apology at Dar, Kirk rose and moved out into the hallway to see what was going on, while McCoy answered the call at his desk.

Kirk walked back in a few moments later to find his Chief Medical Officer and the Commodore looking grim and staring each other down. With an icy glare, she asked McCoy, "Well, Doctor, do you want to tell him or shall I?"

Kirk looked first at one and then the other. "Bones?"

"That call was from Governor Lunos. Lieutenant Uhura is very ill. Since they closed their society against outside influence, they have no one with the skills or the desire to treat her. We are to go down and get her, bring her back here, and carry her in a special brig cubicle in sickbay until such time as she is well enough to go back to the planet and face the charges against her."

"Why the glaring contest?"

"The doctors on Lugubria suspect that Lieutenant Uhura got sick because of something Doctor McCoy did when he visited. Now, whether that is true or not, the perception of shady dealings is there, and the Lugubrians are considering not allowing us to stay and treat the epidemic. That's a problem for two reasons. One, the disease could spread and endanger other Federation worlds. Two, it is imperative that we mend relations with the Lugubrians before the events of the coming months transpire. If the Lugubrians seek help from someone else, say someone like the Klingons, that opens the door to an alliance with them. The perceived actions of your CMO have placed my mission and Miss Uhura's life in jeopardy. Friend or not, that is something I cannot abide. We will play this one hundred percent by the book. Rig that cubicle, Doctor. I am going to my quarters to change. Both of you are to meet me in the shuttle bay in ten minutes time. As for the rest, we will take that up when we get back."

Ten minutes later, both McCoy and Kirk were in the shuttle bay, but Commodore Thavalan was nowhere to be seen. Kirk called security and asked them to check on her. A moment later, Garrovick called him back as they were preparing to transport down.

"Sir, we found her lying on the floor in her quarters—unconscious."

"Get her to sickbay. Place her under guard, for her own safety, until we know what has happened. When she wakes up, explain it to her, and tell her that McCoy and I will be down there when we get back from an errand on the planet's surface."

"Yes, sir."

Less than six minutes later, McCoy and Kirk were back aboard ship, and McCoy was getting Uhura settled in her cubicle. When he finished, he moved to one of the private rooms to check on the Commodore, and Kirk followed him. The guards moved aside when they saw the Captain.

"Report," he snapped.

"Sir, she was unconscious on the floor of her quarters, and we can't wake her up. Doctor Hernandez is watching her closely."

Running his scanner over her, McCoy cursed under his breath. Her signs were bad. He hooked up an IV, and gave her a sedative to ensure she got some rest. Then he moved straight into his office, with Kirk in tow, and closed the door.

A tired Kirk sat down in front of McCoy's desk, rubbing his aching neck as he did so. McCoy reached into the cabinet behind him and brought down the brandy, and two glasses. He opened the knee drawer of his desk, and took out a small bottle with bright blue pills in it. If Kirk didn't already have one of his tension headaches, he would have one soon.

"I won't have any answers for you for awhile." He handed Kirk two of the pills and a snifter of brandy.

"Actually Bones, I figured as much. I am here because I think it's time you told me the story of how you know the Commodore."

"She already told you how we met."

"She told me how she met you. She didn't tell me why she means so much to you."

"Does it matter?"

McCoy's response told Kirk that there was more to the story than the doctor wanted to share, and he knew he'd have to tread carefully. For all the ease with which McCoy could get his patients to talk about their own personal issues, he was not at all forthcoming about his own. McCoy could get awfully touchy when he didn't want to share something, and even ordering him to do so might not work.

"It matters to me, Bones. I am responsible for my ship and crew, and if there is even a potential danger to them, I need to know. Please, help me, Bones."

McCoy sighed. Captain Kirk could have ordered him to share, and hadn't done so. The sincerity in Jim's voice, and the pleading in his eyes told McCoy that this was something serious. Kirk wouldn't be asking if it wasn't—not like this. He sighed and settled back in his chair. He would tell the parts of the story the Captain needed to know.

"There's not much to tell. I met Dee at one of the lowest points of my life, right after my wife left me, and she was very kind to me during a very difficult time. She has this extraordinary ability to push aside the anger and fear and inadequacies, and bring other, better things to the surface. She was, and is, a very good friend to me, and I value the friendship still."

"Would she deceive us?"

"She will do what she has to do to fulfill her orders, just as you would. When her oath to the Federation clashes with her oath to medicine, she will be a doctor first, as I would. One thing I can promise you is that she will always act in the best interests of her patients and of the Federation. There is no middle ground for her, when it comes to that."

"Is her presence here going to pose a problem for you?"

"I, too, will meet my obligations. She would expect nothing less, and I will not disappoint her."

"Do you still have feelings for her?"

"Don't push, Captain. My feelings for Commodore Thavalan don't have anything to do with this mission."

"Consider it a professional interest, Doctor. I need to know if her presence here is going to affect your efficiency, or make you hesitate at a critical time."

"Damn it, Jim, I already told you I will do what I have to do. Dee is very subtle, and very good at what she does. She's also a consummate professional and she expects that same ethic from everyone around her. I will not be the one to disappoint her by falling down on the job, even if she's dying. You want to hear me say I love her. Fine. I love her. Does that satisfy your curiosity? I will follow orders, Jim. Yours, hers, and anyone else's that might be relevant at the time, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

"No Bones, I suppose it doesn't."

(0o0)

Commodore Thavalan had finally been released from sickbay and sent back to her quarters, where she sat down behind her desk, thinking hard about the research she had done with the ship's computer. Something didn't fit, but she couldn't determine what it was. She needed to talk to a friend, but she couldn't risk being overheard on ship's channels. She knew how it would look, if anyone looking at the communications board saw what she was about to do. She could bring Spock in, but she couldn't be absolutely sure that the Enterprise wasn't in on the conspiracy. No, she had to be sure. Too many lives were at stake otherwise.

With a small, grim smile, she opened her box of discs and withdrew one, looking at it for a long time. Finally, she slid it into the slot on the computer that sat on the desk in her quarters, and pushed the switch to activate it. The program should guarantee a secure channel and keep the bridge from knowing what was going on.

Up on the bridge, Palmer sat at her station, quietly monitoring the communications board and doing some routine maintenance on circuits that had gotten crossed during the turbulence the ship had recently been experiencing. Suddenly, the board flashed frenetically, and then blanked out. Frowning, she toggled several switches and touched buttons on her board, trying to bring it back. Nothing. She was supposed to report it, but she couldn't open a channel to contact Mr. Spock in his quarters. On a normal day, she could have sent someone, but today, that was not an option either.

Dr. Thavalan immediately pushed a certain button on the comm. link on her desk. A man's voice answered after a moment.

"Thou art that shrewd and knavish sprite called Robin Goodfellow?"

"Thou speakst aright. I am that merry wanderer of the night." She paused for a moment. "The game is afoot. Once more unto the breach, dear friend, once more."

"When shall we meet again, in thunder, lightning, or in rain?"

"Four days will quickly steep themselves in night, four nights will quickly dream away the time." With that, she broke the connection, and sat back in her chair, aware of what she had just done, and that there was now no turning back.

Spock leaned forward in his chair, and toggled the switch on his desk that should open a channel to the bridge. Nothing. Inclining his head slightly, his long fingers played over the keys like a prodigy with his favorite instrument. Again, nothing. One eyebrow rose to the immaculately clipped hairline, and he quickly typed in more commands, ordering the computer to run self diagnostics programs. The screen was on, but blank, and it stubbornly remained so.

With just the slightest hint of annoyance, Spock steepled his fingers before him and considered what to do next. He had just risen to go up to the bridge when the chime rang on his desk and he heard Palmer's voice. "Communications to Mr. Spock"

"Spock here. Did you experience a board malfunction, Lieutenant?"

"Not exactly, sir. I don't really know what happened. It just went blank, Mr. Spock."

"I am on my way to the bridge. I should like to know exactly what happened before the screen blanked when I get there."

"Yes, sir."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"What are you planning to say when the Captain comes down?" asked Raphael Rodriguez, a rather large and burly security guard, and one of the two men who had been on duty outside sickbay when the ill Vulcan was killed. He lounged on his bunk, watching his roommate pace over on his side of the room. His partner, a rookie security crewman, named Parker, swallowed hard. "I think we should tell Captain Kirk the truth. Lives may depend on it."

"Look, if you tell him the truth, we will both end up in the brig, and you can be sure the Captain will court martial the both of us. We will be busted so low we'll be saluting the plants. I, for one, don't intend to sacrifice my career because you can't keep your mouth shut. They have no proof. Just be cool, and everything will be fine."

Parker stopped pacing and flopped onto his bed. He knew Captain Kirk would come to address them sooner or later. They had already been down here for three days, and while his partner seemed to enjoy the time off, he wanted to get back to work. He was ready to face whatever consequences he had to face, in order to put all of this behind him. By being down here, he felt he was letting his team down, as well as himself. Truth be told, he did not know what he would tell Kirk when he came down, but he did know that they would not have been confined to quarters if the Captain hadbeen convinced they were telling the truth.

Both jumped as the door to their cabin slid open without warning, and they looked to find Dr. McCoy standing there. "Gentlemen," he said, smiling at them, "I am working on the quarterly medical checks for the crew, and your names came up on my list, but they were flagged that you were confined to quarters, so I decided to come down and escort you, one at the time, to sickbay. Security has enough to do right now. Mr. Parker, you'll come with me first, since you are the first on my list. Mr. Rodriguez, we'll be back soon. Be ready for your turn when I return."

"Yes, sir." He accompanied them to the door, but was met by two of his colleagues on the security team. "Back inside, Rodriguez. Captain Kirk's orders were that you go nowhere until he comes down."

McCoy laid a hand on the young man's shoulder, steering him gently toward the turbolift. "Sickbay," he said quietly as they entered. While they were making the trip, he spoke to the young man next to him. "How are you feeling, son?"

"All right, I guess." Parker spoke warily. This one was wily, and he had the Captain's ear, which made him dangerous.

"You want to talk about what's making you so nervous?"

"I'm not nervous."

"Son, I've been doing this a long time. I've seen higher ranking men than you get nervous. No shame in it. One thing I can tell you for sure is that you are about as tightly strung as the strings on Mr. Spock's lyre. I may be able to help if you let me." He looked sideways at the young officer. "Wanna try again?"

"I guess I am a little worried because Captain Kirk hasn't been down to see us, yet. I don't know him very well, so I don't know what to make of that, but it has been three days. I just want to get the disciplinary measure over with and go back to work."

"Well, right now, he has his hands full. Both he and Spock do. I am sure he will be down soon. I wouldn't worry too much about it, Ensign."

"Thank you, sir." The turbolift came to a stop at that moment, and they walked through the doors and down the hall to sickbay. "What were you confined for?"

"I think the Captain believes we were not telling the whole truth about guard duty outside of sickbay when that Vulcan woman was killed." They entered sickbay, and McCoy led him to a diagnostic table off in an inner room of sickbay, where they could continue their conversation without interruptions.

"Were you? Telling the truth, I mean."

"Yes, but there is more to it…some that isn't mine to tell, and some things that happened were beyond my control." McCoy brought one end of the table down to the ground so that the young man could step up onto it, and be positioned for examination.

"You are planning to tell Captain Kirk all of this when he does come down, aren't you?"

"I want to tell him."

"What's stopping you?"

"You wouldn't understand if I told you."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that, son. Each of us has been a young officer on his first deep space assignment. We know what that's like. It seems like everyone on the ship outranks you, and all of the new procedures and the regulations are a little overwhelming. You seem to get all the worst shifts, and are assigned the jobs that no one else wants to do, and then when you do get an important, if not glamorous job, you get into trouble for something you do during it. And all the while, all you want to do is prove to the Captain and your senior officers that you are worthy of their attention, that you can do this, if only they will give you a chance."

"Exactly."

McCoy smiled. "Son, that's happened to all of us. You said I wouldn't understand if you told me, but I think I've done all right so far. Why don't you tell me what the problem is, and maybe I can help you?"

"Doc, I am in a situation I don't know how to get out of, and I am worried that, because I am the junior officer, my side of the story might not be believed if it isn't backed up. I think I might have been set up, and though I don't mind taking responsibility for what happened, and facing whatever consequences there are, I don't want to take the fall for this alone. I don't want to start my career by being defined by a mistake we both made."

"Son, I'd like to offer you a piece of advice, as a senior officer and a person who knows Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock fairly well. You may take it or not, as you will."

"All right."

"Whatever it is that you've gotten mixed up in will only get worse if you don't tell someone. The truth goes a long way on this ship. Kirk's tough, but fair. He will give you a chance to redeem yourself. Mr. Spock is a very good judge of whether crewmen are telling the truth, and he's a good judge of character. Either one will definitely hear you out, and their reaction to a voluntary confession might surprise you. My advice to you is to give them a chance. Let someone help you. Use this as a learning experience. You don't want to start your career being labeled untrustworthy either. Now, regulations require me to mention, in my weekly report, that we had this conversation. Since it is a matter of ship safety, it isn't covered by privilege. I'd rather you tell someone first. It will be better for you if you do so. I can call Captain Kirk down here when we are finished, and you could tell us both the story."

"I guess I can do that."

"Good. Thank you, Ensign."

(0O0)

Commodore Thavalan was trying to catch up on some work. She had chosen an inconvenient time to fall ill, and she had interviews lined up with most of the rest of the junior officers on the bridge crew later on, so she needed to catch up on some other work while she could. Data pads covered her desk, and there was a small stack of record tapes that sat beside the viewer on her desk. The Vulcan in her insisted on order, so she kept the towering stack as neat as possible, but she logically could not move any of it, since she was in the process of using all of it.

The chime outside her door sounded, and the Commodore groaned inwardly. She had too much work to do to see anyone right now, and it could not be a patient, since McCoy had not cleared her to start seeing patients yet, and he was within his authority to do that, at least for today. "Come" she said, finally, pushing the release that would open the door. She hid her surprise to see Sarek standing in the doorway.

"Ambassador, please, sit down." He did so, and his piercing black eyes bored a hole right through her. She almost felt that he could see right through to all of her secrets. "Tea, Ambassador?" He nodded, and there was a pause while she poured them both tea, then she spoke again. "I never had the opportunity to express my thanks for your help a few evenings ago."

"It was logical to help you, but I am gratified that you are awake."

"Was there something I can do for you, Ambassador?"

"Commodore, I believe we have some business to attend. I spoke to the Vulcans in sickbay." She swallowed hard.

"What would that be?" she asked, though she thought she already knew the answer to that question, at least.

"I assume you realize that you would face charges if you were to return to Vulcan." She nodded.

"Since it seems likely that we might spend some time on Vulcan or one of its colony worlds before this mission ends, the Vulcan High Council and the Federation Council have requested that I investigate these charges that render you a fugitive from Vulcan and make a decision as to what is to be done with you. That decision will bind all parties to its outcome. You have the right to request another Vulcan moderator if you do not wish to have me investigate this matter."

"No, I have no issue with your investigation, Mr. Ambassador."

"Good. Perhaps I can help you, then. A word of caution—I will be very thorough in my investigation, though I do not wish to harm you. I will have the truth, and that truth is what I will base my decision upon. That is the only way to reach a decision that all parties will believe and respect."

"I understand, sir."

"Then understand this, too. Some of the things I do, or order others to do, may be quite difficult for you. They are necessary. Savel and I will both meld with you. I will not seek to explain that to you, as the experience of a medical meld is quite different from that of a normal meld, and also different for everyone, and you will have the experience soon enough. We will need Doctor McCoy's help, I think. What we discover in the meld tonight will start my investigation. If you cooperate, it should not be overly painful, though you might find it a tad uncomfortable or unpleasant. Savel may have some tests of his own that he wants to run before we begin, and if so, those, too, are necessary. Do you have questions for me?"

"Is there anything I should do to prepare for this?

"No. Spock or I will come by after Savel has come aboard, unless, of course, Savel wishes to prepare you in person. That will be his prerogative. I simply stopped by now because I felt you should be made to understand my investigation, and since all on the ship are confined to quarters, I might not be able to come back later, until the test begins."

"Understood."

(0O0)

Ensign Parker was seated on the sofa in McCoy's office. McCoy had instructed him to get dressed, and then wait for him there, while he moved over to his desk and called Kirk in his quarters.

"Kirk here," said a familiar voice as an intense hazel stare appeared on the screen. "Bones, what can I do for you?"

"I have Dave Parker down here. He's the young security ensign who was helping to guard sickbay when the two Vulcans were killed, and he would like to talk to you about that for a few minutes, if you are available. Seems there's more to the story than you originally were told, and he'd like to amend his statement."

"On my way, Doctor."

Kirk marched through the sickbay doors, and spoke quietly to Dr. McCoy. "Call security and have them escort Mr. Rodriguez down here. I want to talk to both of them when he is finished. Then, call Spock down. I'd like him here for this." The Doctor nodded.

The young security guard squirmed uncomfortably under the Captain's intense scrutiny. Kirk stood patiently just inside McCoy's office doorway, silently waiting for what the young man might tell him. Spock joined him a few moments later. Finally, the Captain's narrowed eyes and intense stare got to be too much for him and he spoke very quietly.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Granted, Ensign."

"I can only speak for myself, but I do want to set the record straight. We were on post outside of sickbay, and I started to feel intensely nauseated, almost like I was feeling the after effects of a heavy stun, but I did not see anyone around, and then I was on the floor and could barely move. We were not near one of the communication panels in the hallway, so I left my post for just a moment, when I could walk, to call sickbay and ask the duty nurse if I could come in for a moment and see the doctor. The nurse who answered said that the doctor was not in, and she did not know where he was. She told me to call back a few minutes later if the symptoms did not subside, but that it was probably just space sickness, from a change in the space around the Enterprise. That seemed reasonable, and I was feeling a little better, so I returned to post, but my partner, Lieutenant Rodriguez, was gone when I got back."

"How long was Lieutenant Rodriguez gone?"

"After I got back to post, he was gone for close to half an hour, sir."

"Do you know where he went, Ensign?"

"No, but he came from the direction of officer's quarters on Deck 5 when he came back."

"Why didn't you tell me this when I asked you that morning if either of you left your post?"

"I'm sorry, sir." He stared at his shoes. "I was a little embarrassed about my, um, weakness while on duty, and I felt better and did not want to be ordered to sickbay."

"Ensign, are you aware that we have an epidemic aboard ship?"

"Yes, sir."

"Symptoms like the ones you are describing could easily have been the first sign to the medical staff that something was wrong. That might have given us a chance to start looking for answers days or hours earlier than we did. We might have been able to come up with a vaccine before the majority of the crew had to be confined to quarters. Do you have any idea how vulnerable the ship would be to enemies with most of the crew incapacitated? Do you now understand the importance of reporting to sickbay, even when you are feeling better?"

"Aye, sir. Thank you, sir."

"I think a week's worth of double shifts should be sufficient to remind you to tell me the truth from now on, wouldn't you say, Ensign?"

"Aye sir." The Captain gave a single nod, and then turned his back to the young Ensign and focused his attention on Lieutenant Rodriguez, who had just been brought in and was heavily flanked by security guards. The ensign took the hint and scurried out into the general area of sickbay, followed by McCoy, who wanted a few more tests after the news he'd just heard about the ensign's earlier illness. Parker was grateful that it had not been any worse than it was. He was still worried that Captain Kirk might decide to take him out of security for awhile.

"Lieutenant, where did you go when you left your post?"

"Nowhere."

"I do not understand. When you left your post, you had to go somewhere, and you must have had some reason for going." Spock spoke quietly. The Lieutenant just stared straight ahead, unwilling to say any more.

"Lieutenant, perhaps some time in the brig will help you remember." Kirk turned to the guards flanking Rodriguez. "Escort Lieutenant Rodriguez to the brig. Be sure he stays there."

"Aye, sir."

"Captain." As Kirk turned back around, he noticed his First Officer holding a box. "I went to the Commodore's room to set up the computer access she requested, and I found this box. I also found this in her computer terminal. I would not have noticed it except that it was on the screen. You should look at it." He placed the record tape in the viewer and turned it on. Kirk looked at the screen for a few moments, trying to puzzle out what the information there meant, and then he suddenly understood.

"Sabotage."

"It appears so, but we won't know that for sure until we can talk to her about it."

"Let's go talk to the Commodore, Mr. Spock."

"Captain, I'd like to go as well."

"As you wish, Ambassador."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

The Commodore had been awake for half a day at this point, and had grown so bored that she was giving Dr. McCoy's legendary irascibility a run for its money. As a result, he had sent her to quarters, and then shut himself in his office, muttering something about more cooperative patients, and silently promised himself he'd visit her later. When Kirk called him, he went as much to check on her as because the Captain wanted him there. Captain Kirk's eyes were narrow, and his mouth was a grim line. Dar watched with interest as they approached her bed. She could tell something was wrong, and her instincts told her that Kirk would be a formidable enemy.

"Commodore, when you came aboard this ship, I admit, I doubted your mission. I didn't know what you could do for the ship that has the reputation of being the best in the fleet, but in the short time you've been aboard, you've completely gained the trust of my crew, and my First Officer which, I might add, is no easy task. So, I have to ask you, why are you trying to sabotage my ship?" The Commodore looked at him blankly for a moment, and then she suddenly remembered the tape that was in the viewer before she blacked out, and realized he must have seen it. Oh, brother.

"Captain, I assure you that I have no intention of sabotaging your ship. I understand that you might have seen something you don't understand, and I wish I could tell you the truth, but it is part of my mission, and as such, it is classified."

"I cannot accept that as an answer when my ship is in danger. A Starfleet Captain's first duty is to his ship, and her crew. I need answers, and I will get them, one way or another."

"You don't have a choice whether to accept my word that this is part of my mission. I am still your superior officer, on a mission duly authorized by Starfleet, and I am in complete charge of my faculties. There is no reason to believe that I have lied to you beyond the truth I am forced to conceal for the mission."

"No, no reason at all, except a little record tape that indicates you are trying to sabotage my ship." His voice was growing quieter, more deadly in his anger.

"Commodore." The voice of authority cut through all of the human chatter, and she looked at him in some surprise. "It is time to continue the discussion we had earlier." She swallowed hard, and glanced at each of the other men in the room in turn.

"Would you rather make this a private conversation?" She looked at the men standing next to her bed, and shook her head. If this is what she thought it was, and if she could convince them that she truly did not intend to sabotage the ship, she could not have better allies. That was a rather large "if", though.

"Very well. One of them seemed to think that you are a fugitive from Vulcan, for whom he helped search some twenty years ago. Is this true?" Silently, she nodded.

"Explain."

"Thank you, sir. I'm not sure where to start."

"Relax Commodore, and just tell me what you remember."

"That's just it. Large chunks of information about what happened are missing from my memory." McCoy looked at her appraisingly before he spoke up.

"Tell us what you do remember. Maybe I can help bring the rest back."

"All right. I was living on Vulcan, serving my medical residency, and I was very young. One night a young Vulcan male came into the Science Academy Hospital during my shift. He had been beaten pretty badly, and I patched him up. When a patient is sick, I treat them. I don't ask about their politics. He stayed there a week, and I got to know him. He was different than anyone I had ever met. When I released him, he asked me out. We had been dating for about four weeks when he asked me to treat one or two of his men. I agreed, seeing their treatment as my responsibility. Things were good for quite awhile.

"Slowly, I began to see signs of what he truly was, but I was young and inexperienced, and I did not want to believe it. Besides, I was only doing my duty as a doctor, and I could not refuse him treatment, no matter what he was, so I ignored the signs I was noticing. They were really only small things, anyway, a lie that I told myself was a miscommunication, a couple of broken promises for which I made excuses. Then, one night he asked me to step over the line. I guess I had known all along that that day would come. Well, by that time, I didn't see any way out. I could not, would not, do what he was asking. To do so would have violated everything any decent person holds sacred. Understand that he was a powerful man, with eyes and ears in many courts, and I was in his territory. I had seen his hideout. He could not allow me to leave and we both knew it. We also both knew that I was more valuable to him alive than dead, and if he killed me, there would be some difficult questions he did not want to answer.

"The next thing I remember, we were at the hideout, and there was a fire. The building burned to the ground. I rescued everyone I was able to reach, and spent the next two days patching them up and keeping them alive. At first I thought he had died in the fire, but the rescuers never found a body. As time passed, I began to suspect that he had started that fire. It too conveniently solved a few problems for him.

"After that, I must have caught up to him again, somehow, or he must have caught up with me. I don't remember it, but I do remember being again, briefly, in his presence, and I remember him leaving. It wasn't until later that I realized he had left me there as bait for the Vulcan guards pursuing him. They caught me, and I went to sleep that night under heavy Vulcan guard, awaiting a hearing the next day. I woke up two days later in a Federation holding cell, completely devoid of memory, and was released later that day. What I have remembered in the intervening years has come back in bits and pieces. I'm sorry, but that's all I remember."

Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan regarded her frankly for a moment, and then turned to McCoy. "Is there anything you can do to help her remember?"

"Yes, plenty, but it will take time."

"Time is what we do not have, Doctor. Truth drug won't help her?"

"It might, but if she's not ready to remember, she'll fight it, and that could hurt her more than it helps her. I'd prefer to allow her the time she needs to remember on her own." Sarek looked at Captain Kirk.

"Captain, I have a suggestion. It is possible that I have a solution to both of our problems. With the Commodore's permission, I'd like to meld with her. Perhaps I can help restore her memory, and look at the classified information she is concealing for this mission. Though I will not share it with you, you would at least know whether she is telling the truth about trying to sabotage the ship." Kirk considered for a moment, then nodded. Something was better than nothing.

"Carry on, Ambassador."

"Commodore?" She sat staring mutely at the Vulcan Ambassador, he who held sway over the destinies of entire planets, and considered what he asked of her. Her eyes acknowledged the sacrifice he was making in the offer, and honored him for it. Slowly, she shook her head, and they all read the discomfort in her features. Quietly, Kirk spoke up. "Once I make the decision to turn this over to Starfleet Command, what happens will be up to them. I can assure you that you can have no better allies than the men in this room."

"And what happens if you don't like what you find when you look inside my mind, Ambassador? Answer me that."

"It is not a matter of like or dislike. What is there simply is, and you must deal with it. I only seek to assist." She knew what he was offering her. This would quite possibly be more difficult for him than for her, and she felt a bit ashamed of herself as she realized that.

Another voice spoke quietly from the corner, and she suddenly realized she had not known that Spock was standing there, he was so quiet. "Commodore, do you trust me?"

"Yes, of course, Mr. Spock." She spoke without hesitation.

"My father has requested to meld with you. Whether you allow this or not, you are about to embark on the most difficult mission of your career. You will be facing the Vulcan High Council and answering some uncomfortable questions. They might very well order a Healer at the Science Academy to meld with you at that time. For while you are there, you are subject to Vulcan law, and while Vulcans usually don't meld with someone without their permission, the situation with those accused of crimes is a bit different, for melding with them clears them of the crime, almost as often as it convicts them. You cannot lie to someone who joins their mind with your own. Often those melds are the more stressful for being ordered, and therefore, a bit more dangerous to both parties, and quite frightening for the one who is the subject of the meld.

"I owe you a debt of gratitude for a service you recently rendered me. Using the resources I have at my disposal to help you in this matter is one of the ways in which I would render a partial repayment. We can help you. Will you allow us to do so?"

She sat quietly for a moment, considering Sarek's words and Spock's. Finally, she spoke again, almost inaudibly.

"Just do it."

"Will you join me, my son?"

"I do not wish to look at the classified information for her mission. If I felt the ship were in danger, I would feel it my duty to tell the Captain what I saw there."

"As you wish, my son." He turned back to the Commodore and without warning placed his hands lightly against her face. Chills ran down her spine as he made contact. She was surprised for a moment at the gentleness with which he touched her. There was an authority, an indefinable power in the touch. She marveled at how it skated lightly across the surface of her consciousness for a moment, rapidly processing information, looking for a specific memory. He must have found it because she felt a great wrenching pain for an instant, and then something hard and rigid and formless where the pain had been, and she realized that he must have put a block in there. Lightly, other hands touched her face, and an intensity that she had never known hit her full force before subsiding slightly into a steady, pulsing throb. It wasn't pain, exactly, but something more like pressure, and strangely comforting. She fought the sudden onslaught of panic that washed over her, and concentrated on opening her mind to them, not that she could have actually kept it closed if she had wanted to do so. Those logical Vulcan minds moved in a rapid, orderly fashion through her mind, sifting through layer after layer, from memory to memory, perusing them and then laying them aside for a time. Until they found what they were looking for—a jumble of memories that had blank spaces in them. Now, they moved slowly, carefully, straightening them as someone would straighten an extension cord. She gasped in surprise as one of them touched one of the blank spots and the circuit closed and her mind was flooded with impressions. Finally, it was beginning to seem that all the frustration was worth it.

Suddenly, blackness swirled into her vision, tightening the corners, closing in all around her. She felt the Vulcans' grip begin to loosen, but they were trying to hold on. An ugliness, an evil reared up at them, and then the blackness took her and she felt herself sliding down into it.

Spock's face contorted in pain as the entity reared its ugly head. It came from the center of her being, and threatened to overpower them. Somehow, Spock sensed that if it were released completely, there would be no controlling it. He took a deep breath, and putting all of his considerable strength into it, he thrust back down into her mind, heedless of the pain he might be causing her, and of the pain that he himself was experiencing. On some level, he was aware of his father next to him, thrusting as hard as he was, seeking some invisible door to slam on the entity. He sensed her terror, but he could not afford to allow his attention to be drawn away from the work in which he was engaged, and so he dug deeply into his own being, concentrating with that focus unique to Vulcans, shutting out all else.

For an eternity encased in a single few moments, he thought they were winning. Somewhere in the far distance, outside of the meld, he heard someone screaming, a scream that would serve to stand the tiny hairs on the back of one's neck on end. His knees buckled and he tried to hang on, but felt himself slipping. He heard a thump and recognized it as his father falling. As blackness took him, his final thought was of whether they'd managed to contain the creature once again.


End file.
